Whispers in the Dark
by Victory-Starr
Summary: In the summer before Harry's second year, it's discovered that Lily didn't die, but was instead held prisoner for several years.
1. The Stranger

**Title: **Whispers in the Dark

**Summary: **In the summer before Harry's second year, it's discovered that Lily didn't die, but was instead held prisoner for several years.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of the characters from it. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

**Author's Note: **I've been working on this story idea for a good two years now, but have only now felt fully prepared enough to begin posting it. It is expected to be quite lengthy and slow-paced, but the updates will be regular.

**Beta:** SocksForDobby

* * *

**Chapter One: The Stranger**

Severus Snape cursed under his breath and yanked his hand back.

A large bird sat on a perch in a metal cage and squawked at him as if to say, 'Try that again and see what happens!'

"Oh, you must be more careful, Severus," a voice came from behind. "Patrick doesn't care much for men. You know that."

Severus bit back a nasty remark and turned to face his long-time, elderly neighbour in the rocking chair behind him. If you asked anyone on the street, they would tell you that dear Irma Reed, with her wispy white hair and her old calico dresses, was a peculiar lady, but always kind.

Severus would add a few choice words to that.

"Perhaps you could have Patrick moved to another cage," he suggested, keeping his tone even. "It would be far simpler than to mend the bars in this one."

She lowered the shawl she was knitting and gazed at him over the tops of her bifocals.

"If it were that simple, I would have done so already. Instead, I have to worry he'll get his poor head stuck between those two bars. I don't know what I would even do if that happened. Would paramedics even respond to a bird emergency?"

"I'm afraid I don't have the answer to that." Severus rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Do you not have a second cage, Mrs. Reed?"

"This is my only one."

Severus didn't push the issue. Over the years he had learned to read the woman and he could tell when she didn't want to discuss something.

She was not going to budge on this issue.

He turned back to the slightly rusty looking bird cage. It was old; there was no doubt about that. He suspected the relic held some important memory attached to it and that was why the woman still had it. He knew that she took great care to keep it clean and in good shape, but one of the tiny bars on it had finally become corroded enough and broken off completely. It was not an expensive cage by any means, but it had lasted a very long time. She'd had it as long as Severus could remember. If only she would get a new one, it would surely save a lot of trouble.

But he knew, as he gazed warily at the haughty parrot inside, that she would have him mend every bar on the cage before she settled for a new one.

Severus reached out slowly for the broken bar; hoping Patrick would relax for just a few minutes, just long enough for him to untie the piece of yarn that was holding it in place.

He was just pulling the last of the string away when the ill-tempered bird lunged forward with an angry screech. Instantly he felt a sharp pain in his right index finger.

"Damn!" He yanked his hand back, taking the broken piece of metal with him.

Mrs. Reed looked up with a start. "Are you okay, dear?"

"Your bird just attacked me!" He held up his finger to examine it. Bright red blood seeped from an inch long cut on his finger.

"I told you to be more careful." She wagged a bony finger at him. "You know that."

Severus clenched the metal piece and yarn tightly in his uninjured hand, and took a deep breath. "I believe I have some things at home that I can use to mend this. If you'll excuse me for a short time, I'll go see what I can do."

"That's just fine." She didn't even look up this time. Her focus was clearly back on her project.

He moved to the front door. "I'll return shortly."

"Take your time, dear. It'll give poor Patrick some time to recover."

_Poor Patrick? The bird is fine!_

Fuming, Severus hurried back across the cobbled street to his own house. It was his finger that was bleeding. He was the one in pain; not the damn bird.

But if he was going to fix the cage with magic, without the interference of his neighbour, then he was going to have to do it quickly. The woman never let him disappear long from a project before she came looking for him, almost as if she thought he simply wouldn't come back and finish. That was, of course, absurd because Severus Snape always finished what he started.

Once home, he went immediately to the small kitchen in the rear of the house and turned on the tap. He stuck his finger under the cool stream of water and, after a moment, pulled it back out for a second look. He cast a simple stitching charm at the wound, watching to see that the skin pulled together properly, however unprofessional the method.

Satisfied that there was at least no more blood, Severus stooped down to look for some bandages in the cupboard beneath the sink. But he'd only just moved aside the bottle of dish soap when he heard a sharp knock on the front door.

* * *

"You're supposed to be dead."

Those were the first words that caught Harry's attention. The Dursleys were very normal people. Boringly normal, really. So normal, Harry sometimes thought it wasn't very normal at all. It just made them weird.

So for Aunt Petunia to say something so completely un-ordinary, something even a bit strange, made Harry's ears perk right up as he stood on his tip-toes in front of the kitchen sink.

"Who are you, anyway?" Aunt Petunia hissed next, her voice coming from the front hall.

An inaudible voice said something in response, but the voice was much too quiet for Harry to make out what they said.

Harry leaned forward, turned on the cold water, and stuck an empty glass beneath the tap.

He was supposed to be outside, working in the garden. Before Uncle Vernon had left for work, he told Aunt Petunia not to let Harry back inside the house until he'd finished pulling all the weeds. Every single one. The weeds weren't all pulled yet, but it was so hot outside, and besides, Uncle Vernon wasn't even here. Just Dudley and Aunt Petunia, and they were both a bit preoccupied.

"Oh, I know you, I just don't believe you. Don't give me that sob-story. Do I look like I care? I don't, not at all," said Aunt Petunia next, her voice getting a bit shriller. "I don't believe you're who you say you are for a second. This is a trick and I refuse to fall for it."

Harry took a sip from his water, and then looked up towards the ceiling as heavy footsteps sounded on the floor above. Dudley must have gotten up from his new video game. That had been one of the many gifts he'd received for his birthday the day before, and Harry was very glad, because it had kept Dudley out of his hair for most of time since.

Then something Aunt Petunia said brought Harry's attention abruptly back to the front hall.

"A shock is right! You magical people all think you're so intelligent and we're all so stupid. Well, we're not and if I actually had any good feelings for my sister, I would say this was a cruel joke. But I hated my sister by the end, so I can only see this as irritating."

This was definitely not normal. Aunt Petunia never talked about magic and she never talked about her sister, either. Harry's mum, and especially his dad, was practically a banned topic in the Dursleys' house.

Harry put his glass in the sink and crept closer to the door, so that he could hear more easily.

"I know you don't mean that," a softer voice said.

"Yes, I do and I'm not letting you stay here. I won't have any more of this foolishness in my life than I have to. I had to live with it growing up, and then my sister runs off and dies. Now I've had to put up with it for ten years with that boy of hers."

"Mum, I need a snack!" Dudley called out, coming down the stairs.

Harry dashed back to the sink. He'd just lifted his glass back to his lips when his cousin came waddling into the kitchen.

The bigger boy glared at him. "What're you doing in here, little baby? Mum said you were gonna be outside all day."

"Shut up. Who's at the door?"

Dudley started digging through the fridge. "Some homeless person or something, I think. I don't know."

"I don't think it's a homeless person, Dudley. It's someone who knows about magic."

Dudley pulled a pudding cup from the fridge and shut the door. "Dad said you weren't allowed to talk about that freaky stuff."

"So?"

"So I'm gonna tell him when he gets home."

"Go ahead, you great big snitch. I don't care."

"You will when he gets here." Dudley pointed towards Harry with his chocolate covered spoon.

He was right. Uncle Vernon was sure to be angry and Harry really did hate it when his uncle was angry. He didn't ever hurt him, not usually. Mostly he just yelled a lot until his face got sort of purplish. Then he'd usually lock Harry in his cupboard around that time and stop yelling soon after. Harry only got knocked around sometimes. It wasn't like it happened every day or anything. Just days when he'd been especially bothersome or if Uncle Vernon had had a particularly bad day at work. But he wasn't afraid of the man. Well, maybe he was just a little. But he wasn't about to let Dudley know that.

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're finished with your pudding. Go see who's at the door."

"I'm not done." Dudley tossed his spoon into the sink. "Leave me alone. Besides, if you want to know so bad, why don't you go see for yourself?"

"Because I'll get in trouble, you know that. Why don't you?"

"Because I don't care," said Dudley, his voice careful and deliberate, as if Harry was too stupid to understand.

Harry was inching back over to the door when Aunt Petunia called his name, surprising him so much he felt like he might have jumped right out of his skin.

He glanced back at Dudley who had found a bag of salty crisps and was munching noisily on a mouthful of them. But he did grin wickedly at Harry, crumbs stuck to his teeth, as if to say, 'See, you're in trouble already."

"Harry, I know you're inside. Get in here!" Aunt Petunia called out for him again, in not a nice tone at all. It was the tone of voice she usually reserved for him when she wanted him to do something she found unpleasant, but knew he might enjoy and hated that he might be happy. Like running down to the supermarket for her or raking the leaves in the morning before it got too hot outside.

Harry waited just a moment, to pretend he was coming from further away than simply the other side of the wall. Then he stepped through the kitchen door and into the hallway.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" he asked, careful to keep his tone polite.

His aunt turned to him, her face set and grim looking. "There is someone here to collect you."

She stepped aside so that he could see who was standing just inside the front door and Harry couldn't help but let out a gasp at what he found.

It was a lady with long, dull red hair and a tired face. She didn't look old exactly. She looked younger than Aunt Petunia. But what struck Harry the most was that he instantly recognized the strange lady's eyes.

They were his eyes. His mum's eyes. But that was impossible, wasn't it? This couldn't be his mother. It just couldn't. She'd died years ago. Dumbledore had said so and Dumbledore knew just about everything.

But Harry had seen pictures of his parents now, thanks to Hagrid. There was no doubt about it, if this lady wasn't his mother; she certainly looked exactly like her. Just like her. So much, in fact, that Harry found it hard to speak. He simply didn't know what to say.

It seemed that the red-haired lady was in a similar predicament. She just stood there and stared at him, obvious shock written all over her face.

"So... it is true," the lady murmured, seemingly to no one in particular. "He's alive. I'd always known it. I'd seen the papers... but I never let myself believe it. Not until I saw you for myself."

Lost, Harry broke his gaze and turned to look at his aunt for any sense of what was going on.

Thankfully, Aunt Petunia spoke up.

"Harry, this woman claims to be your mother and... and my sister," she added, glancing in her direction. "I find the whole story quite unlikely and would sooner believe that this is all a hoax. But truth or not, you are leaving. I'm going upstairs to collect your things and both of you will then be out of my house immediately."

Aunt Petunia turned and swept past Harry, disappearing up the staircase.

When she was gone, Harry turned back to look at the lady who was supposedly his mother. His... dead mother? Or, that was how he had thought it to be anyway.

He watched as the stranger took a step toward him, and he quickly took two steps back.

The lady stopped in her tracks.

"Who are you?" he blurted out.

"I'm Lily. I'm your mother." The lady's voice was quiet, and just slightly hoarse, like she didn't use it all that often. But to her credit, she stayed where she was at, just inside the closed front door.

"You're... you can't be. My mum died when I was a baby. An evil wizard killed her," Harry found himself explaining. He took another step backwards, so that his back was to the wall. He didn't take his eyes off of the stranger, who was shaking her head.

"I understand that's what you think, but it's just not true."

Harry felt anger boiling deep in his stomach. She was a liar. He didn't know how or why, but he felt sure that she was.

"It is true! Dumbledore told me so! And Hagrid too! Hagrid's my friend. He would never lie."

The lady's face looked sad, like she understood Harry's confusion. "Of course he wouldn't lie to you. Hagrid is a great friend. I know that he'd never try to hurt you."

"You know Hagrid?"

"He's one of the nicest people I've ever known, Harry. I'm glad he's your friend. But when he told you that your dad and I... that I had died that night, he was wrong. But I'm sure he thought he was telling you the truth."

"But Dumbledore said so too," he reminded her.

"Ah, Dumbledore." She smiled, like she was amused, and this irritated Harry.

"Dumbledore knows everything," he said, defending the old wizard. "You can't be my mother. It's impossible. I don't know how you got her face, but I do know magic can do lots of things... things like this."

"Things you don't even understand yet, am I right?" the lady prodded.

"I didn't even know about magic till I went to Hogwarts last year," admitted Harry. "I'm still learning."

Her brow furrowed. "Your aunt and uncle didn't explain to you earlier?"

"They didn't tell me anything, except that you– that my mum and dad died in a car crash when I was a baby."

"A car crash?" Now the lady just looked angry, not unlike Hagrid had when he'd heard the story.

"That's how they told me I got this too." Harry pushed up his fringe to reveal his scar, and then let it fall back down onto his forehead. He added, a little quieter, "They don't really care much for magic."

"Yes, I know." She pursed her lips, her eyes moving briefly towards the ceiling. Then they moved back to Harry, as if to study him.

Realizing his anger had subsided a bit while he'd been distracted, Harry brought his defences back up in a hurry.

"I still don't believe you. I think you're a liar." He considered stamping his foot, then thought better of it. He settled for crossing his arms over his chest and turning his face up towards the ceiling, avoiding her gaze.

"What can I do? How can I make you believe me, Harry? I know this comes as a shock. Believe me, I'm shocked too. Even though I've known it was true, I could never truly believe you were still alive."

"Well, I am! I've been right here all along! If you're my mum, then where've you been?" He demanded, meeting her soft gaze with his own accusatory eyes. "You left me!"

"No. No, sweetheart, I didn't." She took two steps closer to him again before stopping. "It wasn't in my control. I've been locked away all these years. I was alone in a house I couldn't escape, but I don't know how I got there. I spent years there, with no way out. It was maddening. Trust me when I say I'm just as confused as you are. If there was any way I could have come and got you, I would have."

Harry didn't say anything. What could he say? He was out of arguments. Every reason he brought up why she should be lying, the lady was able to deflect somehow. She made it sound so convincing that he found himself desperately tempted to believe her. He'd wished for so many years that his parents were still alive, but he'd never let himself seriously entertain the idea. You didn't come walking in the front door ten years after dying in a car crash. That was just impossible. But if somebody thought you had died from something magical, might it be possible that there was a chance you hadn't? Of course, that would also mean that Dumbledore had been mistaken and Harry found that even less likely.

"You have to go to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do. If he says you're really my mum, then I'll believe it," he said, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. "If anybody can figure out what happened, then he can. I know he can."

Aunt Petunia was came down the stairs then, a bundle of clothes under one arm, and dragging Hedwig's padlocked cage behind her. Hedwig was squawking indignantly at the handling she was receiving.

Harry frowned. "She doesn't like that. You've gotta be more gentle with her."

"Here, then you come take her," Aunt Petunia snapped at him and Harry hurried forward to take the cage. "I don't really care whether she likes it or not. This bird is leaving with you and I'll be glad to have you both out of my house."

Harry set the heavy cage down on the ground and looked back up at his aunt. "But Aunt Petunia, you can't send me away."

"Oh and why is that?" she asked him, moving both her hands to rest on her bony hips. "This is my house, don't you forget."

"But I live here!"

Aunt Petunia scoffed. "As if you'll miss us. Now that your 'mother' is here to rescue you, I'm sure you'll be much happier with her."

Harry looked wildly between his aunt and the lady claiming to be his mother. His gaze settled on his aunt and he took a step closer to her.

"You can't just send me away with a stranger. That's not what adults do," he reasoned, trying to keep his voice steady. "And you can't really think she's my mum. If you did, you'd hug her and you'd have her in for tea like you do for your book club ladies. Then maybe even tell her she can stay for awhile and sleep in the guest room, like Aunt Marge. You'd treat her really good, because you thought she'd died, and you'd miss her and be happy she was here."

"And why would you think such a thing?" Aunt Petunia wrinkled up her nose in disgust as she glared down at him.

"Well, um, because," Harry faltered, well aware of the two pairs of eyes on him, "Just because if I had a sister... well, I know that's what I'd do."

"That's sweet, Harry," said the lady claiming to be his mother.

But Aunt Petunia didn't appear to be moved at all, except for perhaps a little angrier. She stormed over to the cupboard under the stairs and pulled a small key from her pocket. Unlocking the door, she dragged out Harry's school trunk and tossed the bundle of clothes inside. Then she came back and removed the padlock from Hedwig's cage.

"We don't run this household based on your morality," Aunt Petunia said, lifting her pointy chin. She looked at her supposed sister. "I don't care who you are, but you're not welcome here. Not as Lily Potter, and certainly not as an impostor. But as long as you claim to be my sister, then the boy is your responsibility. Lord knows, we've had about as much as we can stand of him. Take him with you."

The stranger looked crestfallen, but determined. "How can you even say such a thing? We're family, you and me. Harry, too. Don't get me wrong, I want him with me very much. But, how can you treat him so?"

Aunt Petunia waved the question off. "He's only here because Dumbledore insisted on it. We didn't ask for him. He's only been a burden that all of us will be all to glad to get rid of."

Harry watched as anger began to overtake the strange lady's features again while she first took in Aunt Petunia's words, and then turned her eyes to him. He wondered if maybe she was looking for signs of hurt or disappointment, maybe even some tears. But if she was, she wouldn't find any. These were words he was all too used to hearing. They used to bother him, a long time ago, when he was younger. But he'd hardened himself to them now. He let the harsh, cruel words wash over him in the loveless rush they came in, and pretended he just didn't hear them. They weren't nearly so bothersome that way.

"I thought maybe you'd have changed over the last ten years, Petunia." The lady turned back to his aunt, her face hardened. "I thought maybe you would have grown up some, and become more compassionate, more loving. But you haven't. You've just become colder."

"Yes, because perfect little Lily is such a wonderful judge of character, I forgot," Aunt Petunia hissed back. "The boy must have received his morality from you."

"Did you ever hurt my son? Tell me the truth." The stranger took a step closer to Aunt Petunia, but Aunt Petunia said nothing.

The lady's green eyes flashed dangerously. "You may not have loved him, but you better have taken care of him. I'm taking him with me, and if find out that you _ever_ hurt him, so help me, I will make sure you regret it."

Aunt Petunia stepped forward so there was only a foot or so between the two women. "What are you going to do then? Point your stupid little wand at me and turn me into something horrible?"

At that moment, Dudley stepped into the room, still holding his bag of crisps. He took in the sight of the two furious looking women with wide eyes.

"Blimey. What'd I miss?"

"Go back and finish your snack, Duddy," Aunt Petunia told him sweetly. Then she turned back to the stranger and her voice was cold again. "Well?"

"No." The lady exhaled deeply. She pushed a strand of red hair behind her ear. "That's not really an option right now. But you forget I didn't do all my growing up as a witch. I've never depended on it, not ever, and can hold my own quite well. I know _you_ know that too."

Aunt Petunia had apparently had enough though and marched to the front door. She pulled it open. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not afraid of you."

"Hopefully that means you have no reason to be," said the stranger. She grabbed the handle of Harry's trunk and looked to him. "Come on, Harry. Take your owl and come with me."

"Where's he going?"

Harry glanced back at where Dudley continued to stand.

"Is he leaving?" the bigger boy pressed.

Aunt Petunia gave him a stiff nod. "Yes."

"For good?"

"Yes, Duddy, for good."

Dudley grinned. "Excellent."

"Now, out. Both of you," Aunt Petunia demanded.

Harry held his hand over Hedwig's cage and hesitated.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart," the stranger coaxed, "I promise."

"I don't believe you. I can't."

"You don't have to. Just come with me, and we'll work something out, all right?"

Harry turned to his aunt. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," said Aunt Petunia, her voice going up a notch. She pulled the door open a few more inches. "Go on now, both of you! I don't want to see either of you again."

The stranger took up Harry's trunk and started her way out the front door. As she passed through, she paused. "I wish things could have been different." The lady's voice was soft again, and her face had gone from angry to sad. Almost apologetic.

"Yes, well, so do I," said Aunt Petunia and for just a split second, Harry caught what might have been some remorse in his aunt's eyes, but then they were back to cold and distant and he thought he must have imagined it.

Then the stranger was out the door and Aunt Petunia was looking at him with impatient expectancy. She was waiting on him. She really was going to toss him out of her house with some strange lady. She was serious.

He was hoping she hadn't been.

Seeing no other choice, Harry grasped the handle of Hedwig's cage and lugged it over to the door. He could see the lady standing out on the pavement, waiting for him.

He peered up at his aunt. "This might not be such a good idea, you know."

Aunt Petunia's eyes flitted quickly over to where the stranger was waiting, and then she shook her head. "Nonsense, you'll be fine."

Harry opened his mouth to argue with her and ask her 'how did she know that?', but an idea dawned on him. It made his insides squirm with apprehension and excitement.

"You think it's her, don't you? You actually do think she's my mum, even though you're not letting her stay." But when Aunt Petunia shrugged, he pressed on earnestly. "You do. I can tell you do. If you thought it was a trick, if you really thought that for real, you'd have locked the door, maybe called Uncle Vernon. You would've been more scared. But you're not. You let her in the house and talked to her, and now you're sending me away with her. You think it's my mum!"

Aunt Petunia stooped down so that she was on eye level with him.

"Fine," she said, and her tone came out biting. "You're right; I do think it's her. I don't know why and I don't know how, and to tell you the truth, I don't care. Stranger things have happened. But as long as she's here, she can have you and if Dumbledore comes to complain, then he can work out this mess."

"Dumbledore?" Harry took a step back, his eyes wide. "You know Dumbledore?"

She stood straight again and looked disgusted. "Yes, of course I know him."

"How?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped and gave him a slight shove in the back. "Now get out of here. I told you, I don't want to see you here again."

But that was all right. Harry didn't want to see her again, either. He'd dreamed of leaving the Dursleys for years, and here was his chance. They'd go to Hogwarts and if this strange lady really was his mum, then things would turn out better than he would ever have dared to imagine. But if it turned out that it wasn't her, that it really was some terrible trick, then he would find someplace else to live. Maybe Dumbledore would let him stay at Hogwarts. No matter what, things would be better away from Privet Drive. They'd have to be.

He nodded, more to himself rather than his aunt, and opened his mouth, but then realized he didn't know what to say. What do you say to somebody who never really cared about you? Somebody why was kicking you out of the house with a lady who was supposed to be dead and when you're only just a kid.

"G'bye, Aunt Petunia," he muttered.

He didn't hug her, didn't even think about it. She never touched him unless it was to shove him up the stairs or push him into the cupboard or something like that.

He took a hand off the cage and gave her a small wave.

She responded to the gesture with another shove and then slammed the door on his back.

He stumbled from the force and gripped Hedwig's heavy metal cage harder. Biting his lower lip, his eyes found the red haired lady still standing on the pavement. She was waiting on him.

Trying to balance the weight of the bird and the cage, he made his way down the front steps over to where she stood. Once nearer, he could see that she was looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

"She should never treat you like that, Harry. You know that, don't you?"

Harry set the cage down and flexed his fingers. His aunt and uncle hadn't asked to take care of him. He knew that because they reminded him of the fact quite often. They hadn't ever wanted him.

Glancing back up at the lady, he shrugged his shoulders.

She shook her head. "She shouldn't."

Yeah. Harry shifted and lowered his eyes to his worn trainers. Maybe. The whole conversation was making him uncomfortable. He sucked in a breath and looked down the street, then back down at his shoes.

"So, am I really going with you?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"After ten years without you, Harry, there's no way I would ever leave you here," she vowed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We just need to figure out where to go from here."

Alarmed, Harry's head shot up. "I thought we were going to talk to Dumbledore!"

"We were... or, we will." The lady looked uncomfortable now and bit down on her bottom lip. "But, sweetheart, I can't go to Hogwarts. Not yet."

"What? Why not?"

"It wouldn't be safe. Everyone thinks I'm dead, Harry. I can't just go walking into a wizarding village. Not until I talk to Dumbledore."

"So you _do_ want to talk to him?" This made Harry feel a little better. As long as they got to Hogwarts, if they could talk to Dumbledore, everything would be okay. "I wasn't sure you liked Dumbledore."

"I definitely want to see Dumbledore. And I do like him, Harry. I do." The lady smiled and reached a hand out towards him. "It was just cute to see you defend him like that."

Harry rolled his eyes and ducked his head out of reach. "But we can't go now. Right?"

"Right," she said, dropping her arm.

Harry exhaled loudly and dropped down onto the kerb. He glared up at her. "So what're we gonna do then? We can't sit here all day, you know. We're making a scene and when Uncle Vernon finds out, he'll be angry."

As if reminded of the Dursleys, she looked over at their house and frowned. "I was really hoping that I'd get some help here."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "From Aunt Petunia?"

The lady nodded

"But Aunt Petunia hates magic!"

"I know. I guess that was wishful thinking." She smiled down at him. "But I found you, didn't I?"

"Was that in your plan?"

"Sort of," she said, lowering herself to sit next to him. "I didn't know where you were at, but I was hoping your aunt might. I only just got out of that horrid house this morning, and finding you was one of the first things I wanted to do."

"What were the other things?"

She gave him a grim look. "Find Dumbledore."

Harry crossed his arms across his chest. This conversation was completely useless. He might as well come up with some sort of plan himself.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. That's not going so well, is it?" she asked.

"You're the grown-up. I'm the kid," he huffed and looked away from her. Then he added, softer, "They never do like they're supposed to."

He could feel the lady's eyes boring into him from behind, but she didn't say anything and Harry had nothing else to add. They both remained quiet for a few short minutes and Harry was just about to suggest that they get off the Dursleys' property, when the lady stood up.

"I have an idea," she announced.

"To get to Dumbledore?"

"No. But there's an old friend I used to have, back before you were born. I don't know if he still lives there, but it's worth a try. I can't think of anyone else available."

"Will he help us?"

"I don't even know if he'll want to see me," she admitted. "But if anybody can help us out, I know he can. We'll go see if we can find him."

Harry gave her a sceptical look and reluctantly pushed himself to his feet. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

"Yes," she murmured, her eyes flickering with apprehension. "So do I."


	2. Reunion

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of the characters from it. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Reunion**

Reaching his front door, Severus was already forming some strong words for Mrs. Reed. For once, she had told him to take his time, but he hadn't even been gone for five minutes yet. Surely she could have waited just a little bit longer.

He pulled the door open.

"Mrs. Reed, I have not yet had the time to-" Severus did a double take. His elderly neighbour wasn't standing on his door step.

Lily Evans was.

But Lily was dead; it couldn't possibly be her. This was just a strange coincidence. Except she looked too similar. Too much the same. Identical.

But then, it could only be an impostor.

Before he could let himself think otherwise, Severus whipped out his wand and sent a stunning spell at the woman. It was only as he darted forward, to keep her from hitting the ground, that he noticed the small boy standing behind her.

"Potter! What are you doing here?" demanded Severus, heaving the unconscious woman into his arms.

To the boy's credit, he looked about as surprised as Severus felt. "I don't know! What are you doing here?"

"I _live_ here," huffed Severus. "Come inside."

The boy glanced behind himself at a trunk and owl cage.

"Yes, yes, take your things with you. Just get in here."

Trying to slow his racing thoughts, Severus staggered back into the house to lay the woman on the sofa.

_This is not Lily. Whoever she is, she can't be Lily._

Not his Lily.

He heard the front door shut behind him and turned to see Potter dragging his trunk into the room. The owl cage sat beside the wall with the boy's snowy white owl sitting quietly inside.

"Leave that and come here," instructed Severus, pleased that his voice remained strong, despite the fluttering in his heart. Pointing to a worn armchair beside the sofa, he said, "Sit there and do not get up unless I direct you to."

Potter climbed into the chair without complaint, pulling his grimy, untied trainers up under him. He took in the sight of the woman lying on the sofa and turned back to Severus, looking quite appalled.

"You knocked her out! What'd you do that for?"

"You cannot be serious. This woman is most likely dangerous, and for some reason beyond my comprehension, you are with her. What are you doing here?"

"I don't know! My mother wanted to come here! We rode the train for hours!"

"Your mother?" Snape repeated with a sneer. "Apparently I underestimated your stupidity. What part of 'dead' do you not understand?"

The boy slouched and dropped his gaze to his mud-stained trousers. "I dunno. I know she's supposed to be dead and I don't _really_ believe it's her. Well, not a lot anyway. But she came to the house and-"

"Wait – your aunt and uncle's house?"

"Yeah, this morning. Aunt Petunia talked to her and then she told me she was sending us both away. Aunt Petunia _made_ me leave. But Professor, she really does think it's my mum. I don't know why, but she does! And she would know, don't you think?"

"No, Potter, I don't."

"Well, I do!"

"Fortunately then, we don't base our decisions off of what you think."

The boy crossed his arms across his chest, saying, "Well, we were going to talk to Dumbledore, but she said we couldn't go to places where people might recognize her."

"That certainly is true," murmured Severus, dark thoughts and possibilities creeping into his mind. "If people were to see Lily Potter walking down Diagon Alley, there could very well be an uproar."

Potter's head shot up. "So you do think it's her?"

_Yes_.

Severus wanted so badly to be able to say so, but common sense kept him grounded.

He shook his head. This woman on his sofa may look like Lily, but she simply could not be. He wouldn't let himself forget that. He couldn't go through that grief again. He wouldn't.

He stepped closer to the sofa and held out his wand.

Alarmed, the boy sat up straight. "What're you gonna do to her?"

"I will not harm her. I am merely going to find out if this woman, who you claim is your mother, is really who you say she is."

"And if she's not?"

What _would_ he do? The outcome of the perpetrator was something he had not yet considered. Would it be best to kill them instantly? Torture them first into insanity? Left up to Severus, there would be ill consequences for daring to possess the form of Lily Evans Potter.

To Harry, he said, "Then I will deal with the impersonator accordingly. It will not be pretty and I will have you leave the room."

"And if she is? If she is my mum?"

Snape gave him a long, hard look. "If this woman is indeed your mother, then the entire wizarding world is going to be turned upside down, yet again. Either way, you are in very big trouble, boy. Now, not another word."

The child looked like he wanted to say more, but he sat back in his chair once again.

Severus began executing a series of complex wand movements, but Lily, the woman, continued to lie there. She didn't change at all and Severus could feel the blood draining from his face.

After trying numerous spells, he tucked his wand back up his shirt sleeve. He'd tried every magic cancelling spell he knew, every counter that might even possibly reverse a disguise. Some he had performed more than once, just to be absolutely sure.

But nothing had changed.

He turned to look back down at Potter, who was still sitting quietly behind him in the chair. "Up. Now," he commanded, not trusting his voice nearly so much now.

The boy followed Severus through the open doorway built into a bookcase. In the small kitchen, Severus pointed a finger at one of the wooden chairs around the table and Potter obediently dropped into it.

Severus pulled out an identical chair and sat directly across from him.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything at all. Severus inhaled deeply and, digging down inside himself, he tried to regain even the slightest bit of his usual cool composure. In the end, he didn't feel much better, but enough time had been wasted and he broke the silence with yet another direct command.

"Explain, Potter, in detail, how you came upon this woman who claims to be your mother. And let me add, that you had better have a very, _very_ good reason for believing her enough to leave the safety of your relatives' house and come here with a potential stranger. Begin. Now."

Severus listened as the boy relayed to him the day's events. As the story went on, the potions master became more and more amazed by the boy's naivety and sheer idiocy. Was the child really that easy to fool? At so many points while Potter was speaking, Severus found himself wanting to interject, but he bit his tongue. Likely, it would not benefit him to interrupt the boy, now that he had gotten him talking. But it didn't take long to complete the story, and once it was over, Severus wasted no time in berating the boy for his stupidity.

"So, let me make sure I heard you correctly." Severus looked the boy in the eye, observing with interest the way he refused to blink when confronted. The child's mind was an open book. "You decided to leave the safety of your relatives' home with a stranger, simply because your aunt seemed to you to think it was your mother, whom you've always known to be dead."

"She kicked me out!" Potter insisted, as he swung his legs nervously, his shoelaces slapping against the chair leg.

"Does that sound like a solid reason to run off with a stranger to you? As appalling as it is that your aunt would lock you out of the house, you could have stayed there and waited. I'm sure you would have been let back in eventually. Or you could have gone to a neighbour."

"I guess it was kind of stupid," the child admitted, ducking his head.

Severus scoffed. "To say the least. You are fortunate to even be alive after a stunt like that. But as it is, your story sounds plausible and I have yet to succeed in cancelling any spells that may be concealing another person's identity in the form of your mother."

"What does that mean?"

"Absolutely nothing at this point. I am going to speak with Dumbledore. Surely he will be able to solve this puzzle for us."

Or at least he hoped that the older wizard could help. If Dumbledore couldn't solve this, then Severus was quite certain that nobody could. After all, the Dark Lord was afraid of the other wizard for good reason. Dumbledore was the greatest wizard Severus Snape knew of. If Dumbledore could not change Lily's body into a truer form, then that would have to mean that the woman _was_ Lily.

But that was impossible.

"And then you'll wake her up, right?"

Severus glared at the persistent boy, who was still fidgeting in his chair. For a brief moment, he was prepared to make another scathing remark, but found he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not when the boy's mother was Lily Evans... Potter... and possibly, Severus dared to venture, lying stunned on the sofa in the very next room. It was all too surreal.

He stood abruptly, not bothering to answer the boy's inquiry.

"I am returning to the sitting room and you are not to leave this chair. Should you disobey, I promise, I shall know and the consequences will be most unpleasant."

Severus strode swiftly from the room. The woman... Severus refused to think of her as Lily... was still lying just as she had been left, looking deeply asleep. Satisfied that the spell had been strong and would not come undone any time soon, he turned towards the fireplace.

He snatched up some Floo powder from the mantle and tossed it into the hearth. Then he knelt down and stuck his head into the green flames, calling for Dumbledore's office.

Within seconds, the familiar office came into view.

"Headmaster!" Severus called out, unable to see the entire room from his current view point.

"Severus!" the old wizard's jovial voice responded. The bearded man appeared in front of Severus and crouched down. "How are you enjoying your summer holiday?"

"I've no time for idle chit-chat," Severus snapped. "I have an urgent matter to discuss with you."

Dumbledore gestured towards his desk. "By all means then, Severus, come through."

"I'm afraid that is not possible at the moment. Harry Potter is here. In my house."

"Harry? But he's supposed to be in Surrey. Arabella Figg assured me that he made it home from King's Cross just days ago."

"Yes, well, he has only been with me for about half an hour, yet it seems he's spent the last few hours travelling here by train."

"Not alone, I imagine?" Dumbledore presumed, but did not wait for an answer; instead asking, "Who brought him to you, Severus?"

"Perhaps it would be best if I showed you." Severus stood and stepped aside.

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Severus would have found the dumbfounded look on his employer's face quite amusing. He was sure that he had never seen the old man look more shocked in his life, not even the night that the Dark Lord had been vanquished by Harry Potter. He looked so shocked, in fact, that Severus was almost concerned that the surprise had given the other man a heart attack.

But Dumbledore regained his composure quickly and asked, "May I come through?"

"Please."

"Where is Harry?" asked Dumbledore upon coming through. He had already pulled out his wand and was walking over to the sofa.

"He is supposedly still in the kitchen." Severus followed Dumbledore and stood beside the other man as he watched him cast a few silent spells over the stranger. "Potter told me she showed up at his relatives' house this morning, claiming to be his mother and Petunia Dursley's sister."

Dumbledore looked up from what he was doing, disapproval etched in the lines of his withered face. "And they believed her?"

"From what I can gather, Potter seems to think that his aunt believed her. She definitely had no qualms about throwing her nephew out of the house with a potential stranger."

Dumbledore frowned and lowered his voice. "And Harry? What does he think of all this?"

"He is confused, although I believe somewhat convinced after spending so many hours with her. Originally, I had thought that maybe he'd been Confunded. He then told me the rest of the story."

"But he seems unharmed?"

"Yes, although he is very adamant that we wake her soon. What do you think?" He gestured to the woman on the sofa.

"This is not a Polyjuice form, Severus. I was almost hopeful that it was. If this is all a glamour, it is very strong. I have tried many simple spells already. I trust you have already performed them?"

"Of course, several times even. I found nothing suspicious."

Dumbledore's frown deepened.

"Can you think of anything else?" Severus pressed. "Anything at all?"

Stroking his long beard, Dumbledore studied him, giving Severus the uncomfortable feeling that the older man was reading his emotions all too well. He heightened his Occlumency shields.

Finally, Dumbledore said, "Only one thing that could be done that would not risk her well being. But it would require a lot of work. Perhaps taking well into the evening to complete. It would also require manually taking down all the spells within the vicinity, which I presume would be on your property alone?"

As far as Severus was aware, he was the only wizard within miles, perhaps even the whole town. He'd spent a lot of time over the years, ever since his father had gone, putting up several different charms and spells until the house and property were just as he wanted them to be. But he couldn't deny that Dumbledore was correct. If they were to truly discover who was lying on his sofa, the magic needed to be removed, and Severus was tired of wasting time.

Only somewhat reluctantly, he nodded his agreement.

"Excellent," Dumbledore declared, his eyes already darting around the room. "Where do we begin? Oh, but first let us move young Harry to a safe spot where there will be no risk of anything falling, dropping, or otherwise flattening the child, shall we?"

"Of course." Severus stalked into the kitchen, noting with satisfaction that the boy startled at his sudden entrance. "Get up and come with me."

Back in the sitting room, Severus directed him to have a seat in his previous chair.

Dumbledore came up from behind them. "Hello, Harry," the old man greeted the child, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Hello, sir. Are you here because of my... because of this lady here?"

"Professor Snape requested my help, after telling me about what happened. Harry, we discussed your parents. Do you remember?"

The boy bit his lip. "Yes, sir. You said my mother made a sacrifice. But how could she have done that if she's here? If it really is her? I thought you said she was... that she died?"

"Yes, yes, I did, and that is the truth as the rest of the world and we know it right now," Dumbledore said, resting a hand on Potter's shoulder.

Severus rolled his eyes. How the man could muster up so much patience, he would never know.

"Professor Snape and I are going to spend the next few hours removing all the spells and magic in his house," Dumbledore went on. "If this woman is not who she says she is, then we should see her body should change into that of somebody else."

Potter slumped in his chair. "You don't think it's her, do you?"

Severus glanced over at the headmaster. The other man wore a sad expression on his face.

"I want it to be. You can trust me when I say that Professor Snape and I could not be more happy to find out that this is indeed your mother," Dumbledore said, his voice gentle. "But you must remember that she has been thought to be dead for close to eleven years now. The chances that... well, it would not be wise to get our hopes up."

"I do believe that it may be too late, Headmaster," added Severus, seeing the look of determination on Potter's face. "You are wasting your time with your sentiments to the boy. He is already hopeful. Let's move on to the actual work."

Dumbledore agreed and after strict instructions for Potter not to leave his chair, under any circumstances save death and physical harm, the two adult wizards went to work, slowly, but surely, taking down every last spell, charm, and enchantment that had been put in place over the last fifteen years.

Hours later, it was very late at night and Severus and Dumbledore had worked their way up the narrow stairs and back down again. The work was long and tedious, but relatively simple. Potter had not moved from his chair and the only interruption they received had been when Mrs. Reed had come to the front door, wanting to know if Severus ever planned on coming back over to finish fixing her cage. After explaining that an emergency had come up, he'd promised her he would be back with a few days and she left, muttering something about undependable young people.

Now Severus and Dumbledore were both standing in the middle of the sitting room. The woman was still unconscious on the sofa and Potter was curled up in an impossibly small ball in the armchair he'd been assigned. Sometime in the last few hours, the boy had pulled a drab blanket off the back of the chair and draped it over himself. He was still awake, though Severus couldn't help but notice the way his eyes were beginning to look glazed over from exhaustion.

Turning to the headmaster, he asked, "Are we ready?"

"I believe we are."

All the spells had been carefully removed, one by one, for the most part. But it was difficult to remember all the magic that had been placed in various places in the house over the years. They were sure to have missed places, both upstairs and down. The purpose of going through each room and manually removing each one was to ensure that things could come down with supervision. If not, many things were sure to fall, spill, or break. It would have been a mess.

But now Dumbledore could cast one absolute spell and remove all the leftover magic in the house.

The man cleared his throat and, performing a complex wand movement, said, "_Finite Incantatem Maxima_!"

From somewhere upstairs a loud thud could be heard from something hitting the floor, and Severus winced as he then remembered the large, framed map spelled to stick to the wall in his bedroom. A rooster crowed. That was definitely bizarre. Then everything was quiet.

Dumbledore began, "Well, -"

"Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo! Coo-coo...!"

A startled, undignified squeal came from Potter as he sat up, the glazed over look gone.

On reflex, Severus pulled out his wand, but was then left glaring up at the damn cuckoo clock on the wall. He'd forgotten about putting a silencing charm on the bothersome timepiece years ago.

After a few more nerve-racking chirps, the noise stopped.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I do believe it is eleven o'clock."

"Keen observation, Headmaster," Severus growled as he put his wand away.

"Hey! Look! She looks the same," the boy spoke up. Getting out of his chair, he kicked the tangled blanket off his legs and tossed it aside. "So... is she? She is, right? She should've changed by now if she wasn't... right?"

Dumbfounded, Severus could only nod. It was true. She would have changed by now. Actually, that last incantation would have cancelled the stunning spell as well. But she appeared to be sleeping peacefully and, after being out for so long, it was likely that she would need someone to rouse her.

Dumbledore went to the sofa and sat gingerly down on the coffee table. He glanced up at Severus and Potter, who were both watching anxiously.

Yes, Severus could admit it to himself. He was anxious. The way his stomach was churning, he supposed he may be beyond anxious. How could he not be? He could tell by the look on the headmaster's face that the older wizard was becoming more convinced by the second that something big had happened.

Lily Evans Potter was alive and now deeply asleep in Severus' sitting room, of all places.

Another wave of nausea washed over him at the thought. So many emotions were running through him at that moment, but he hid them with much practice. Inside though, they were wreaking havoc upon him. A part of him was screaming to run. It didn't matter where. Just run. Anywhere. That way he would never have to face her.

But he couldn't. A larger, stronger... the finally more mature adult in him knew that he couldn't do anything of the sort. The part of him that was determined to finish every single thing he started just _had_ to stay. Within minutes, his old childhood friend, the woman that he'd never stopped loving, would be sitting right in front of him. He had so much to answer for. So much he needed and _wanted_ to apologize for.

Severus Snape apologized to no one.

Except to Lily. Lily had always been the exception.

Even being given the chance to make the choice between staying and running was something that he would never have expected in a hundred years. Not with all the magic in the world. Not after that after that horrific night.

He'd been given the opportunity, a courtesy extended only by Dumbledore, yet Severus never saw her lifeless body. He'd refused, never wishing for that to be his final memory of her. But he had attended her funeral; although only from a distance, and heavily cloaked. His presence, he'd been sure, wasn't wanted.

How she was alive before them now was something that he'd wager to guess that even Dumbledore did not understand.

"I am going to wake her now," said Dumbledore, and Severus wondered if the man felt as calm as he sounded. He suspected not. "Are you ready?"

Severus nodded at once. There was no reason to stall. He was not surprised to see Potter do the same, the boy's mop of hair bouncing as he did so.

Severus caught himself before stepping closer in anticipation, but the boy didn't appear to have that problem at all. He continued to stand still, looking ready to take flight and run from the room at any given moment.

Dumbledore extended his arm, ready to wake the woman, and then hesitated, turning to Potter. "Would you like to do the honours, Harry?"

Potter wavered, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so, sir. You'd better do it."

"Very well." Dumbledore placed a wrinkled hand on the woman's shoulder and gently shook it. "Lily, wake up, dear."

She shifted and after a few seconds, she opened her eyes, her gaze first falling on the boy standing off to the side.

"Harry?" she asked, her voice coming out in a groggy mumble.

The child's eyes lit up, although he didn't move. "You... you're okay?"

"I feel fine, but what happened?" She rubbed a hand across her eyes.

"Snape knocked you out!"

"Oh." Understanding dawned on her face as she sat up, swinging her feet onto the floor. "Yes, I remember that now."

Her eyes landed on Severus, then on the older wizard next to her. "Severus... Professor Dumbledore."

Severus tilted his head in her direction, not trusting his voice at all anymore. Or even what he might say.

But Dumbledore smiled widely. "Lily, it is so good to see you again."

The woman's eyes brightened and she launched herself at the old man.

He embraced her, kissed her forehead, and then held her away at arm's length. "You look wonderful, my dear."

She let out a choked laugh, wiping her eyes. "I'm a wreck."

But she wasn't, Severus observed. She was older, but that was hardly significant. Her skin was a sickly pale, like she hadn't seen sunlight in months, and she was much too thin. The faded dress she wore was full of patches, not all of the buttons matched, and it hung too loosely over her meagre frame. Her feet were only protected by a worn pair of house slippers and her long hair was lifeless and tangled. But while she looked exhausted and her face peaked, it was still young and full of hope. Her eyes had not lost any of their vibrancy and they shone perhaps more now, even through her tears, than they ever had before.

She was beautiful.

"Nonsense," insisted Dumbledore, squeezing her pallid hand. "You are as lovely as ever."

Severus felt as if a horrible monster was chewing on him from the inside out. He couldn't continue like this. Dumbledore might be convinced already, and Potter too, but Severus needed more proof. Before this went on for any longer, he had to know for sure and he had to know now.

Pushing in beside Dumbledore, he knelt before the woman, his wand ready.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished.

But Severus ignored him. He gazed into the woman's all too familiar eyes, and she met his readily, not seeming to be bothered at all by the long ebony wand being pointed at her.

Dumbledore stood and took a step back. "Not convinced, Severus?"

"You know I'm not."

The woman leaned forward. "What proof do you want?"

A pang in his chest reminded him of just how long it had been since anybody had called him that. At least fifteen years. He'd forgotten how much harder it always was to keep his emotions in check around Lily.

"The day we met, what were you doing?" he demanded.

She blinked. "Playing on the swings. Severus, what-"

"And during the summer, when we would go down to the river, just us, what would we play?"

"Pirates, but-"

"And," Severus pressed on, his heart now thudding so that he was sure the whole room could hear it. He lowered his wand, just slightly. "The last real conversation you and I had, what was it?"

Her expression distanced as she looked down at her hands clasped together in her lap. "It was our last night at Hogwarts. After curfew, you came up to Gryffindor tower and asked if James was around, but he wasn't. He was downstairs and I was going to meet him there. But you said you wanted to talk, so we did. It was all a bit awkward, because we hadn't had a real conversation in years. But when I asked you if you were going to keep hanging out with that rough crowd after school, you said yes. So I told you that we couldn't talk any more after that. I couldn't be your friend when you were theirs. I thought you'd be mad, but you weren't. You said you understood and to remember that you'd always be my friend. Then you told me good night and you left. I never saw you again."

Severus lowered his wand completely.

Lily met his gaze again. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

Severus swallowed. "Yes, I just had to be sure."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"So... is she really my mum then?" Potter asked, his voice small and hesitant.

Severus turned to see Potter still hadn't moved from where he'd been standing. Dumbledore was behind him, a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Severus used the coffee table to push himself up. "It appears she is."

The boy craned his neck up to look at Dumbledore and the old wizard nodded, his eyes twinkling. He gave the boy a gentle push forward.

For a brief moment, Potter looked like he might take a step back again. But instead, he took a tentative step forward. A foot away from where Lily sat at the end of the sofa, he stopped, looking shamed.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you," he told her.

Lily gave him a sad smile. "That's okay, sweetheart. You were just being careful. Come here."

She held a hand out to him. After a couple seconds of consideration Potter stepped closer, and Severus watched with a slight twinge of jealously as Lily pulled the boy into a tight embrace. But the feeling could not withstand the more surreal one he still had of seeing Lily alive before him.

After a few delicate moments, Lily pulled her son onto the sofa beside her and he pressed himself tightly into his mother's side, his small hands clutching almost desperately to the fabric of his mother's worn dress.

Lily's eyes moved to gaze at Severus and Dumbledore. Her eyes were filled with tears and Severus resisted the overwhelming urge to go to her side. Instead, he remained standing frozen a good distance across the room.

Dumbledore came forward again and took one of Lily's hands in both of his own and squeezed it briefly. "Lily, I am not certain you realize how much of a shock this comes to Severus and I, let alone Harry."

"You thought I was dead. I've been reading the paper every day," she admitted, glancing looking down at her son, who had finally loosened his hold considerably. "I already knew, but it was all reconfirmed today."

Dumbledore straightened, almost appearing battle ready. "I know we all have a lot of questions to be answered. I, for one, am quite interested to know where Lily has been all this time."

"Tonight, Headmaster? Perhaps Mrs. Potter wishes to get a peaceful night's rest first?"

Lily glared at Severus and he inwardly cringed at this.

"I'm perfectly capable of discussing this now." She turned back to Dumbledore and said pointedly, "After all, I had a nice long nap all afternoon, didn't I?"

"If you wish." Dumbledore sat down in the chair that Potter had vacated. "Shall we settle in for the long haul then? I think perhaps some refreshments are in order."

He waved his wand and a tray and tea set came floating into the room, settling on the coffee table.

"Tea?" he offered Lily.

Within a few more moments, everyone was seated comfortably in the sitting room. There was tension in the air and a lot of nervous anticipation. Severus' stomach still refused to settle and he placed his coffee down with disgust.

"Now then, my dear," Dumbledore said to Lily. He took a sip of his tea and sat back. "As it seems our perception was entirely wrong, please tell us what really happened that dreadful night."


	3. A Long Night

******Chapter Three: A Long Night**

Harry's mind was still reeling from shock and his thoughts were racing. When Snape had been the one to answer the door that afternoon, Harry had thought it a terrible coincidence that his teacher would live where Lily's old friend used to. But after Snape had interrogated her, Harry finally put the pieces together. ___Snape _was the "old friend" Lily had been talking about earlier. His mother was ___friends _with Snape.

All day long, Harry had been preparing himself for the moment when Dumbledore would tell him that it had been a trick the whole time, that the strange woman wasn't his mum. But he hadn't. She really was and now, when he should feel happier than he had in his whole life, Harry just felt more confused than he had before.

He took a tiny sip of his hot chocolate, careful not to splash any onto the lenses of his glasses. The liquid was still too hot and he grimaced as it left a slightly painful burning sensation on the tip of his tongue.

Hedwig had been released from her cage, much to her delight, and sent outside into the night. Harry had been concerned about this at first, but Dumbledore had assured him that Hedwig knew where to come back to, so she wouldn't get lost.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "Obviously things did not happen exactly as I had thought that night. I also realize that this conversation could be quite difficult. So if at any time you wish to pause or retire for the evening, do let me know."

Lily took a deep breath. "James and I were just getting ready to put Harry down for bed. He'd just had his bath for the night." Glancing down at Harry's stained clothing, she said, "And it looks he could use one now too."

Harry flushed. He'd forgotten how grimy he'd got from working in the garden that morning. Had it only been that morning? It felt like so much longer.

She explained how, when Voldemort showed up at their house, Harry's dad told her to take Harry and run.

He wouldn't admit it, but Harry felt a chill run up his back in this part of the story. He didn't remember the night Lily was talking about. Just sort of a green light he saw in nightmares sometimes. But even knowing he'd been there... it was a weird feeling.

Harry looked up at his mother, but she was staring into space, obviously preoccupied with her memories. Then he glanced down at the space on the sofa he had purposely left between the two of them and wondered if she would mind much if he moved a bit closer. He supposed he was a little old for cuddling, but the hug he'd got from her a few minutes before had felt wonderful. All his life, he'd watched other kids get hugs from their parents and had always wondered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of that sort of affection. Now that he knew, he craved that natural closeness more than he ever had before.

But he didn't dare move closer. What if she pushed him away? Or what if she didn't want him so close? They'd both been without each other for so long, and Harry knew that he felt awkward. Maybe his mum was feeling a little awkward too, and if she was, then Harry didn't want to make her feel even more so. He didn't want her to push him away, so he'd let her have some space.

"...he wanted Harry and told me to move aside, but of how could I? When he lifted his wand, and I just ___knew_ he was going to cast that terrible curse, I jumped in front of it. Then I saw a green light, and everything went black.

"I was almost sure I was dead, except for the fact that I could still ___feel_. It was as if I was Apparating." With a strangled laugh, she added, "I know it sounds crazy. It sounded mad then and it still does when I think about it. But the Apparation feeling went away within a few seconds and I landed some place hard. But I barely had time to even notice before I lost consciousness. Or at least I think I did, it was so long ago. I don't remember much after that, until I woke up, maybe a few hours later."

"But you said he cast the Killing Curse, correct?" Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair.

"Yes," she said, eyes glazing over. "I can hardly bear to even think about it, even after all this time. Every time I do, I see him and that light... hear his voice. To know who the curse was meant for." Brushing the hair back from Harry's forehead, she touched his scar. "You should never have gotten this," she murmured.

Harry noticed that Snape was watching Lily touch his scar and, involuntarily, he shivered.

Lowering her hand, she asked him, "Are you cold, sweetheart?"

He just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Why did a question as simple as that make him feel like crying? That was so stupid.

Dumbledore handed his mum the blanket Harry had left in the other chair and she carefully draped it over him.

"Thanks," Harry managed, feeling warmer, but unsure if it was because of the blanket or because his mum had just covered him with it.

"I do not mean to interrupt," Snape said then, his eyes raking over Harry. "But is it wise to continue this with the boy sitting right here? He looks exhausted and I do not believe that the risk of nightmares is unwarranted. Perhaps it would be better to continue this tomorrow?"

"No!" Harry objected. He wasn't scared and he wasn't a little kid. He could take care of himself, just like he always did.

Relief washed over him when Lily shook her head.

"It's fine. He deserves to know where I've been all these years. But thanks for looking out for him, Severus."

Snape, although he looked like he disagreed, didn't argue.

Harry studied his teacher, sitting there so stiffly in his old armchair, with a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. Snape looked weird, Harry decided, without his usual black robes. Instead, he was wearing ordinary Muggle clothes, not unlike the clothes Harry's old primary school teacher had usually worn. His hair was still lank and oily looking, but with black trousers and a grey, buttoned shirt, he almost looked normal, which was disturbing in itself.

Lily began describing how she had woken up in a strange room, in a huge bed. She hadn't known where she was, she said, but soon discovered that she was alone in a huge mansion of a house. There were at least forty rooms, she'd counted later, and also an old house elf by the name of Miffy.

After interrupting to find out just what a house elf was, Harry down and rested his head against the arm of the sofa, listened to his mum talk about how Miffy had offered her food and showed her where the wardrobe of clothes were. She had gotten scared then, she said, because she wasn't planning on staying there. She didn't know how long she'd even been there at first, but Miffy had told her that she'd been asleep for hours.

Lily had thought for sure that little Harry had been killed by Voldemort. But very soon, Miffy brought her a newspaper and she learned that her baby had lived and Voldemort was dead. Everyone else thought that she and James had died, but she had no way of letting anybody know that she hadn't. She didn't even know where she was at.

But the rest of the tale began to blur as Harry's vision became fuzzy, and even though he fought it, he drifted off into sleep.

* * *

Severus listened to Lily's tale, only intervening when he thought it necessary, which was not often. For the most part, Lily spoke alone; although Dumbledore did offer comments and questions at certain intervals. Severus suspected the older wizard was trying to piece together the pieces of the very bizarre puzzle within the intricacy of his brilliant mind.

Watching the little brat sleep on the other end of the sofa, Severus had to admit that the child seemed less of a threat. The boy looked younger when he was sound asleep and curled up beneath a blanket. He was still a brat, of course; after all, he was of James Potter's blood. But it was now that Severus was reminded of the jarring little fact that he'd so conveniently turned a blind eye to. As much as James Potter's blood ran through his son, just as much of Lily's blood did the same. Lily's pure, kind-hearted, beautiful blood. And Severus had to conclude, begrudgingly, some of that kind-heartedness and purity must also be there in her son... somewhere.

Perhaps he could convince himself that the boy wasn't quite as dreadful, and or nearly as much trouble, as Severus had always thought him to be? Clearly, Lily loved the boy, but what mother didn't love her own child?

During their last year at Hogwarts, every time she would look at James Potter with that utmost adoration, Severus would feel his heart ache from jealousy and grief. But now his heart ached to see her face so haunted.

"For years I stayed in that house. I never left. I tried, but I couldn't. There were strongly placed wards placed on the house that wouldn't let me out. I didn't have my wand. I didn't have anything."

She gave her soundly sleeping son a quick glance. "When I first woke up in that terrible place, I was completely naked. My wand was gone, even the pins in my hair were gone. It was as if somebody had deliberately taken me away from everything I had or owned."

Severus was glad to see Dumbledore's gaze darken. The old man was angry.

"But you were not hurt?" asked Dumbledore.

"No one ever laid a hand on me."

"You're sure?" asked Severus.

"I'm sure," Lily reassured them, her expression softening. "No one ever hurt me. I was there all day, every day. For years, with rarely anybody to keep me company. Occasionally, perhaps a few times a year, an older man called Forrest would stop by the house. He'd check on things, make sure nothing was required."

"A caretaker?" asked Dumbledore.

Lily shook her head. "For the longest time, that's what I thought too, until Miffy told me that he was actually the owner of the house. He never said much to me and he was always very kind, but he wouldn't allow me to leave, either. Eventually I stopped asking him."

Dumbledore glanced over at Severus, and then turned back to Lily. "You say this man was named Forrest?"

"Yes." Lily shifted slightly on the sofa, careful as to jostle her sleeping son. "I don't know his first name. He never told me, and of course, Miffy always called him 'Master'. But he's not living any more. That's how I escaped."

The name meant nothing to him, but Severus was furious. Somebody, somewhere, had known that Lily was alive, and whoever he was, he'd said nothing about it to anybody. It was a terrible shame that the man was already dead, because Severus found that he would really have liked to cause him some harm.

Determined to find out who this man was, Severus asked, "When did you last see him?"

"Two nights ago and he seemed fine." Lily shrugged her shoulders. "Then yesterday morning, I woke up to find Miffy distraught. She was just sitting there in the hallway outside my room sobbing, so I asked her what was wrong. She told me that Master Forrest had died the night before, and apparently, he was the last living of this particular Forrest family, so she was worried that meant she had no master now. But I started to think, maybe since he had owned the house, now that he'd died, maybe the wards keeping me inside would have finally fallen."

"Wards that strong wouldn't just fail like that," said Severus, turning to Dumbledore. "Someone would have had to take them down on purpose."

Lily hesitated, and then said, "Well, something happened to them. Because yesterday morning, for the first time, I could touch the front door and all the windows and open them."

"Severus is correct." Dumbledore leaned forward and placed his teacup on the table. "Wards as strong as you describe would have to be deliberately removed."

"Perhaps someone else found out you were there," Severus suggested, darkly. "Perhaps they are the ones who removed the wards."

"That is possible." Dumbledore appeared deep in thought as he rubbed his hands together. "I will be sure to begin looking into this man right away. But what matters at the moment is that you escaped, and that you are safe."

She gave them a weak smile.

"I didn't leave right away. I was too afraid. I hadn't left that terrible house in over ten years, and as twisted as it sounds, I felt safe there. But I'd seen Harry's picture in the paper a few months ago, when he started school and I knew I had to find him." She rubbed a hand over her face. "I was terrified, and still am really, but I knew this might be my only chance. It took me about a day to get up enough courage to do it, but this morning I told Miffy good bye and I left."

Severus put down his empty cup. "Where is this house, Lily?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She fingered a mismatched striped button on her dress. "It was on an estate of sorts. When I looked out the windows, all I could see was an overgrown garden and a long driveway that disappeared through some trees. I opened the door and ran out before I could change my mind. I hadn't any idea where I even was, but I ran down the driveway until I reached a main road. I followed it until someone kindly stopped and gave me a ride. That's when I learned I was in Richmond."

"Richmond?" Severus repeated, trying to ignore the twisting in his gut. "All this time?"

"I couldn't believe it either at first. It was all so terrible and wonderful at the same time."

Severus couldn't see how it was wonderful.

"I had no money," she explained, "so I took the most expensive things I could from the house, which really wasn't much, just a few decorations and such, and I pawned them. Didn't get a lot though; that house was big, but it wasn't fancy by any means. Then I went straight to Little Whinging, hoping to find my sister still there."

Severus' eyes narrowed at the mention of Lily's cold, horse-faced sister. He had never liked her, not even as a child. She had been much too pushy, bossy and had too little imagination for Severus' tastes. Living her life in a little square box, always, never venturing outside of it to try new things. Quite boring.

But that was all trivial in comparison to what Severus knew now, thanks to his earlier conversation with Potter. After hearing of how Petunia Dursley had behaved earlier that day, he couldn't help but want to do very unkind things to her; things that would perhaps be frowned upon by individuals in higher authority than himself. The fact that he himself had not initially believed Lily to be herself was scarcely important. At least he had made a proper effort to discover the truth. And, he might add, he had not kicked a young, nearly helpless child out onto the streets with a possible stranger. Even if said child was unbearable. Even if said child ___was_ Harry Potter.

Petunia Dursley was despicable.

Lily continued her story up until she had been stunned by Severus outside his door. It was at that point that the blasted chirping clock on the wall began screeching again.

This time, Severus did not hesitate to shoot a new silencing charm at the timepiece. If it had not been his mother's, he would have ridden himself of it long ago. But as it was, he'd never been able to find it in himself to throw it out. Not when his periodic trips down memory lane brought up that clock time and time again. The clock would always stay.

However, his concealed sentiments for it did not keep Severus from silencing it. He did not need to hear that infernal chirping to know that it was one o'clock in the morning.

When the clock had been silenced, Dumbledore stood wearily from his chair. "It is quite late. Or early, shall we say? I think Harry here has the right idea. A good night of rest will do us all good."

Severus stood up as well. "Headmaster, what are your plans?"

"At this point, I do not believe it would be wise to alert the wizarding world to the news that Lily Potter is indeed alive." Dumbledore smiled at the woman still seated. "As much as we are beyond overjoyed for this news, my dear, I fear for your safety if we do not take some necessary precautions."

"Of course, Professor. Should I accompany you back to Hogwarts? And what about Harry...? Can he stay with me?"

Lily eyed Severus, looking a bit lost, and he could not bring himself to make eye contact with her. Not right now. Not with Dumbledore here. He would not be made so vulnerable in the other wizard's presence.

But Dumbledore, as he always did, seemed to have plans of his own.

"I believe it would be wiser for both you and Harry to stay here, if Severus does not mind. No one is usually at Hogwarts for an extended period of time during the summer, except for Argus Filch. There is not a high population of magical people in this old mill town, perhaps even no others at all. You will not be recognized, nor will Harry. Until we can unravel this mystery, I think you will both be much happier here, as opposed to being confined within some rooms at Hogwarts. What do you think?"

He was asking both of them, but Severus knew that Lily was waiting for his opinion before voicing her own. For a moment, he did try and fool himself into thinking that he would contemplate the situation, but he knew that he would do no such thing. Dumbledore was offering him an opportunity to have Lily here in his house for the next eight weeks. Lily, who he had loved since he was only a child; who he would have done anything for, except for what was right. Now, with a second chance, how could he turn that down?

Yes, the brat would need to stay, but if it meant Lily staying also, then the boy's presence would be well worth the pain he would surely be. Besides, the educator in him weighed, it would give him ample opportunity to straighten the boy out. Iron out a few of those nasty, little Potter wrinkles.

"That would be acceptable," he nodded. "if Mrs. Potter also agrees."

There was that glare again. Severus pretended he didn't see it and wondered how well he pulled the act off.

"I'd love to stay," Lily stated firmly. "A quiet place to try and re-settle into some sort of normalcy would be nice, I have to admit."

"Wonderful!" Dumbledore looked pleased with himself, the meddling coot. "In that case, I shall leave you young people to the rest of your night. Severus, I will return in the morning to help you reinstate the necessary security charms and such, although I do think your usual precautions on the locks would be suitable for the night. We do not want to leave you unprotected for an extended period of time, of course, but I believe you will all be safe for the time being. And Lily, I happen to have your old wand stored away in my office. I will be sure to bring that with me."

For the briefest moment, Lily looked like she was going to argue, but instead gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

Severus agreed, beyond ready to get the old man out of his house. "Goodnight, Headmaster."

"Goodnight, Severus, Lily."

The man was gone within moments and once the green flames died down, Severus lowered himself into his chair once again, somewhat uncertainly. All was silent between them at first, but Severus soon got up the courage to ask the question that had been demanding an answer since Lily had first appeared earlier that day.

"Why did you come here?"

He forced himself to meet her eyes, sure that he would never be able to tear himself away. If the woman had been a Legilimens, she would have had access to his deepest memories, because he knew he could never have forced her out.

She just watched him at firs without saying anything. It was unnerving. But after a few moments she said, "I trusted you."

"You trusted me?" he scoffed, finally pulling his gaze away from hers and moving it to the row of books above her head. "You are foolish then."

"Yes, I trust you!" Her voice, although whispering, came out in a heated rush. "I know you, Severus."

"You do not know me. You cannot possibly. Not any longer."

He could feel the glare. He didn't need to see it to know it was there.

"Oh, is that right?"

Severus had nearly forgotten just how fierce she could be when she was upset.

"Nothing you might have read in the ___The Daily Prophet _over the years could be close enough to the truth, believe me. I've done a lot of terrible things. Things I don't think I could ever tell even you about. Some things I wish I didn't have to tell you, but I know I do."

She hesitated. "Like what?"

"Not now. It's too late. Later."

"I will hold you to that, you know."

"I would expect nothing less from you, Lily."

"Well, it's about time!" She chastised him, blinking back tears. "I was beginning to think you would call me 'Mrs. Potter' forever. I don't want to deal with your standoffishness, Severus Snape. If that's the shield you want to pull up to protect yourself from people, then you go right ahead and do that. But you're not going to pull it up around me. I won't let you. We both deserve better than that."

There were very few people Severus would ever let speak to him in such a manner, Lily being topmost on that list. She could get away with most anything where he was concerned. She was still his absolute weakness, just as she had always been. That alone made her dangerous, to both her and himself. Potter too.

Abruptly, he stood up and waved his wand. A thick stack of blankets came rushing from down the stairs and landed neatly on the coffee table. They were quickly followed by a set of pillows.

He gave Lily, what he hoped, was an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I've not anywhere for you or the boy to sleep. Not tonight. I have a room upstairs but it is cluttered with potions ingredients, cauldrons and other harmful substances. It needs a thorough cleaning, which I should be able to accomplish tomorrow. Then we can put two beds in there for you both. It will be a tight fit, but it will work. Tonight, all I can offer you is the sofa and a bed on the floor for the boy. I apologise."

"It's fine, believe me. Sleeping on the sofa won't hurt me. I can just be content in feeling safe." She gave him a pointed look; one that Severus knew meant she still trusted him, for some foolish reason. "Truly safe. It's been too long since I felt that way."

He didn't know what to say. Still, even after all these hours, it was difficult to comprehend the fact that Lily was here. It was a numbing shock, one that allowed him to go on as normal, only to sneak up randomly and remind him once again that she was indeed alive and well. It would take some getting used to. Perhaps even more than eight weeks of summer, and yet, he admitted only to himself, he could get used to having her around everyday very easily.

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, and then went to work preparing comfortable sleeping places. He pushed aside the heavy wooden coffee table and spread some thick, folded comforters on the floor. Then he glanced down at Potter, who continued to sleep soundly, his glasses pressed into his face.

Seeing no other way about it, he reached down and put one arm behind the boy's shoulders and the other under his knees. He lifted him from the sofa, noting with vague interest how light the child was, and placed him upon the bed of blankets. He stood to find that Lily had moved to the boy's other side and was kneeling there, carefully removing his worn trainers and muddy socks.

She reached for one of the quilts still on the coffee table and spread it over her son's small form. After kissing the his forehead and setting his glasses down on the table, Lily stood up. Reaching for a bed sheet, she paused with it in her arms to smile down at the sleeping boy.

"He looks so much like James, but I think less so without the glasses," she murmured.

Severus said nothing in response to this, allowing her to observe her son in his sleep.

"People always said he looked like him, even when he was only days old. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but the dark hair definitely helps. He's got his nose too." She gave a satisfied sigh, and then glanced at Severus. "Does he know?"

"That he looks like James? I believe so. People must tell him often."

"Does that bother you?" she asked, sounding tentative.

He cleared his throat. "I cannot say that it is something I necessarily ___admire_ about the boy," he admitted, his voice coming out gruffer than he'd intended. "I'm sorry, Lily, I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, and I know you loved James. But we never did care for one another, and I cannot help but see him every time I look at your son."

The rest of what that sentence entailed was left unsaid, but she didn't appear bothered by his words. She didn't even give him her signature glare. She had a different look about her; one that Severus found much more disturbing. One of satisfaction.

"I thought that might be the case," she said, as if it were a simple matter. She spread the sheet over the sofa and threw a pillow onto one end of it.

Severus stood there watching, feeling quite uneasy and awkward, not so differently from when he was a child and had met Mrs. Evans for the very first time. He'd stood there in her kitchen in his old, dirty hand-me-downs. His unwashed hair had hung in long clumps around his dirty face. He'd felt so vulnerable there in the kind woman's pristine kitchen, unsure of what to do or say, or even where to stand. He'd finally given into Lily's pleas for him to meet her parents and eat supper with her. Unable to say no to her, he'd reluctantly agreed. But Mrs. Evans had been a tidy woman and insisted upon taking him into the back garden first and trimming his hair. He hadn't let her cut it all the way. His hair was like a safety curtain, allowing him to hide behind it, if he wished to.

That had been the first of many meals he would come to share in that household.

Now, as he watched Lily make up her own bed on the sofa, he was reminded unnervingly of that day in the back garden, and many others that followed in the coming years as he grew up. He got the distinct feeling that just as her mother had trimmed away the broken, messy parts of his hair; Lily was going to slowly trim away the messy parts now in his own life. It was both unsettling and comforting and Severus found himself lost, with not much direction as to where to go.

She spread a quilt over the sofa and Severus could take the silence no longer.

"Lily, I-"

"Don't," she cut him off, holding up a hand. "Like you already said, it's late. You and I have a lot to discuss, but let's not rehash it all tonight. We'll both get some sleep and be better for it tomorrow."

"Of course." She was right, after all. This time of the morning was no time for such a discussion. "The bathroom is upstairs and my bedroom directly to the left on the landing, should you have need of anything. Can I get you anything before I go?"

"No, thank you. I'm set for the night, I think." She smiled at him. A true smile and Severus felt his heart lighten.

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight."

Passing through the door, he stopped and turned to her, unable to shake the feeling that she would disappear the moment his back was turned. But she was still there, pulling the slippers off her feet.

He cleared his throat. "Lily?"

"Yeah?" She dropped down onto the sofa.

"You've been in that house this whole time? Alive?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Yes, of course I have."

"You're certain?"

A nervous, high pitched laugh escaped her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because," Severus swallowed and combed his fingers through his hair, "you had a funeral, Lily. We buried somebody. Somebody else is dead."


	4. Temporary Home

**Chapter Four: Temporary Home**

Harry woke to unfamiliar surroundings. Rubbing his heavy eyes, he stared up at the ceiling and the walls that looked like they were practically made of bookshelves. That's when everything from the day before came flooding back to him.

He bolted upright and sighed in relief when he saw his mum on the sofa. Her long hair was spread over the pillow and her face looked peaceful.

Glad to find his glasses beside him on the coffee table, folded up safely, Harry slipped them over his nose and untangled his legs from the blanket he'd been covered with.

He must have fallen asleep during his mum's story. He scowled as he recalled Snape's interruption, saying that Harry might be exhausted. So what if the git had been kind of right? Harry had had a very long day. Of course he was tired. Anybody would be.

Barefoot, he padded over to the door to the kitchen and peeked inside.

His eyes landed on his potions professor, sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming mug in front of him and a platter of toast. He was reading a newspaper, _The Daily Prophet_ by the looks of the moving pictures, but did not fail to notice Harry's semi-entrance into the kitchen.

"Potter." He narrowed his eyes and laid aside the paper. "Come. Sit."

Feeling as if it was an execution, Harry shuffled into the room and plopped down into the chair across from Snape's.

The man studied him for a minute, his dark eyes raking him up and down, then he picked up a paper napkin from the table and held it out to Harry.

"Wipe your eyes," he instructed. "Then eat. You're far too scrawny, as it is."

Harry glared at the older wizard. Snape could say what he wanted, only because he was bigger and it was his house, but it wasn't like Snape wasn't skinny himself. Harry wondered if the man ate anything besides the coffee he was drinking. He wished that he could tell Snape that _he_ needed to eat, that he was way too scrawny too.

To keep himself from being cheeky, he wiped at his eyes and reached across the table for a piece of plain toast. He stuffed it into his mouth, quite satisfied that he'd kept himself out of trouble.

"Have you no manners?" Snape was watching him eat and he didn't look very happy. "For Merlin's sake, boy, you are a child; not a dog."

When Harry just shrugged, Snape gestured to the food.

"There is plenty of toast. Do try and eat like a civilized person. I assure you, your mother will not be impressed by your lack of table manners."

This brought Harry's noisy chewing to a sudden stop. As much as he hated to admit it, Snape was probably right. Mums were like that. Well, most mums anyway. Aunt Petunia had never really said much about the way Dudley ate and Dudley ate piggishly.

Harry swallowed what was in his mouth, and then carefully took another bite. He didn't want to be like Dudley.

Snape didn't say anything, but he did nod once before going back to his paper. Harry supposed that meant he was satisfied.

Harry finished his toast and drained the glass of milk Snape had demanded he drink. Then he sat there in silence for a few minutes, swinging his legs from the chair in boredom. Eventually though, he had to say something. He didn't want to bother Snape any more than he was sure the man wanted to be bothered, but sometimes, Harry decided, a person needed to do things they'd really rather not do.

"Um, Professor?"

Snape raised his gaze from the newspaper and met Harry's eyes.

"Uh, I was just wondering where the toilet is? I need to, uh..."

"Upstairs, first door on your right," said Snape, eyeing Harry suspiciously. "Do not, I repeat, do not enter any of the other rooms upstairs. Understand?"

Agreeing, Harry jumped up from his chair and hurried up the narrow staircase, the steps creaking as he stepped on them. He tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he'd just had breakfast with Snape. With _Snape_! But then of course, he could still hardly believe his mum was downstairs either.

When Harry returned, the kitchen was empty. He went to the sitting room to find his mum still sleeping on the couch, but Harry's bed of blankets had been picked up from the floor and Snape was there, pushing the coffee table back in place.

"Ah, I was beginning to think that you had disobeyed my orders and had already suffered dire consequences for it," said Snape, sneering. "Good to know you are still with us."

Harry glared at the man. If he was trying to scare him, it wasn't working.

Snape could very well have something evil behind those other doors. Maybe even another three-headed dog like at Hogwarts last year. Even so, that didn't mean Harry was _scared_. It only meant that he would avoid those rooms when at all possible. But he was definitely _not_ scared.

"Get your shoes and follow me."

Severus left the room and for a moment, Harry was tempted to ignore him. Sit down and ignore everything he was told to do. But then that just seemed too Dudley-ish and much more trouble than it was really worth, considering in the end he'd probably have to end up obeying anyway, added to the detentions he'd have until he was eighty-two.

He settled for letting out a huff and grabbed his shoes and socks off the floor. Holding them to his chest, he followed his professor out of the room and up the stairs.

Reaching the top, he found Snape standing outside a closed door off the side of the landing.

Harry swallowed. He really didn't like dogs.

"Um, what're we doing up here?"

Snape smirked. "Are we scared, Potter?"

"No!" Harry insisted, clenching a fist at his side. "I was just curious is all."

"Put your shoes on. I have work for you."

The man pushed open the door, disappearing into the dark room and Harry stuck his tongue out at his turned back.

"Put that tongue away, or I will find a better use for it, I promise you," Snape's low threat sailed evenly from inside the room.

Harry dropped to the floor and pulled on his socks and dirty trainers, cinching his laces and stuffing them inside his shoes. Then he cautiously peeked into the dark and smelly room.

"The bulb is burned out," muttered Snape. "_Lumos!_"

The room was filled with light and Harry could finally see what it was being used for. Potions. Of course. He really wasn't all that surprised that Snape had a potions room in his house. Just that it wasn't in his dungeon. But maybe he didn't _have_ a dungeon.

There was room for one table in the middle of the room and counters going around the walls. Above the deep sink was a window, although covered by a heavy window blind. Cupboards ran underneath the counters and shelves lined the walls above them, all lined with various jars and vials and ingredients. A pile of cauldrons sat in the right corner. It was small in comparison to the potions classroom at Hogwarts, but it was neat and orderly. Very Snape-like.

"Do not just stand there lingering outside the doorway," said Snape, moving around the room and looking in drawers. "This is currently my potions lab, as I am sure you have noticed. But as it is, you and your mother need a place to sleep for the summer. This room will be it, but first it needs to be cleared out, cleaned up, and made suitable for a bedroom once again."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "For the summer? We're staying that long?"

"That's right."

"But why?"

"Because Dumbledore thought it would be safest and best for both of you. Your mother agreed to it. Now, enough questions."

But there were a lot more things Harry wanted to ask. Like, why couldn't he and his mum have their own house now? And why was she even friends with Snape? Snape didn't have _friends_. He kept his mouth closed though, deciding it probably wasn't very smart to annoy the man so much when he was going to have to live in his house for the next... well, a lot of weeks.

He edged cautiously into the room. "What do you want me to do?"

"I am going to begin to move the tables and cauldrons downstairs into the cellar." The man waved his wand at the window blind, turning it into a well-sized cardboard box. The box dropped onto the floor and room got much brighter. "You are going to begin to fill that box with the jars of ingredients from that far cupboard in the corner. Can you accomplish this without breaking anything?" Snape looked down his long nose at Harry.

Harry straightened his shoulders. "Yes."

"Begin then," said Snape, and then he turned towards a pile of cauldrons, leaving Harry to his assignment.

After dragging the box over to the large cupboard, he got down on his knees and pulled the doors open. Inside were numerous jars, all filled with potions ingredients. Not one jar's contents looked alike and Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust as he took in the sight. He was pretty sure that he didn't want to know what was inside most of the jars.

He worked in silence for about fifteen minutes, not once looking up from the tedious task. Soon the box was full, and yet a great deal of jars was left inside the cupboard. Harry turned around to find that the cauldrons were all gone and so was the work table.

Snape was gone too.

He got up, brushing the dust off of his hands, and walked over to the window above the sink. It was almost too high up for Harry to see out of, but he was just tall enough to see over the ledge.

The view was okay. He could see a lot of nothing from the window. Lots of roofs and some random trees even. Old buildings too. Snape had said he and his mum would be sleeping in this room. Maybe he could get Snape to place his bed so that Harry could see outside the window while he was lying in it. It would be nice having a window in his room; the cupboard under the stairs had always been so dark.

"Enjoying the view, Harry?"

Harry whirled around to find Dumbledore standing in the doorway, a bemused smile on his face. Snape was standing right behind him, scowling.

"I filled the box," explained Harry, moving away from the window, just slightly. "But there's more in the cupboard, so I need another."

Snape summoned two more identical boxes and directed them in front of the partially emptied cupboard. "That should meet your needs then."

"Thanks," he mumbled and moved back to kneel by the cupboard. Grasping a jar filled with something purple and sticky looking, he tried not to look too closely at it, in case it had something swimming inside it, like the last jar had.

When the box was half full, he chanced a moment to twist around to see what the other two wizards were doing. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. They were using magic to remove the cupboards and counters from along the walls.

The furniture was coming apart easily and stacking itself in neat piles by the door. Snape and Dumbledore weren't even sweating and Harry suddenly felt very sorry for the contractors and construction workers he had seen working on the Mallory's house, across the street from the Dursleys', last summer.

_It's too bad those guys hadn't been wizards, _he thought. Their jobs could've been a lot easier.

Harry couldn't pull himself away from the sight. Magic still amazed him. You couldn't grow up without it for ten years, and then just accept it after only a school year's length of time. Sometimes he considered that and thought that maybe he'd always be in awe of magic and that wouldn't be such a bad thing. He liked that excited, tingly feeling he got in his stomach when he watched someone do something amazing with magic.

Eventually though, half an hour had passed. Snape and Dumbledore had removed all of the counters, even the sink and pipes, and only had Harry's cupboard left to do. But he had been so busy observing, he still only had half of his third box filled.

He went back to packing the box in a hurry, before Snape could say anything rude or mean or evil. But in his rush, a large jar slipped from his grasp and crashed to the ground, splattering what looked like fish guts all over the floor and Harry's jeans**.**

"Potter!" Snape stormed over from the window.

"Oops." Harry forced himself to crane his head up and look at Snape's angry face.

"I should say so. You should have finished this by now." Snape waved his wand and the mess and glass disappeared from the floor.

Harry reached for another jar. "Sorry. I got distracted."

But Snape snatched the jar from Harry's hand. "Forget it. Get up and out of the way. I will not have you destroying any more of my ingredients."

Harry gladly stepped aside and watched as Snape began packing the rest of the box.

"What was in there anyway?" asked Harry, looking down at his stained trousers.

"Boiled trout eyes," said Snape with his head inside the cupboard. It made his voice sound a bit muffled and not nearly as evil sounding.

"Oh, so no wonder it stunk so much."

"Indeed." Snape placed the last jar in the box and stood up. He looked down at Harry with disdain. "And it still stinks, as you were no doubt doused in it. You need a bath. You're filthy."

Harry took a step back. "What time is it? Can I go see if my mum is awake?"

"It is ten o'clock," Dumbledore spoke up, from behind Harry where he had been observing the disaster.

"And you are not to wake your mother," added Snape. "She is not a morning person and we should allow her that. She needs rest."

Harry bit his lip. "Oh. Is she sick?"

"No, I do not believe so," said Dumbledore, coming over to stand beside Snape. "Of course, she should probably be seen by a healer soon, just to be sure. But you must understand that what your mother has been through is exhausting. She will need time to recuperate."

The two adults then launched into a lengthy, boring discussion about what magic needed to be put back up in Snape's house. Really, the whole conversation was far too complex for Harry to understand, so naturally he found his concentration drifting.

His eyes were caught by an old school trunk sitting in the corner of the room, next to a rusty bucket that had yet to be removed. It looked much like Harry's own trunk, only older.

Curious, he went over and knelt down in front of it. Finding no locks to hold it shut, he pushed open the lid. There was an instant crackling sound and then, _bang!_ A loud noise filled the room and a puff of dark smoke exploded in Harry's face.

Coughing and spluttering, he fell back on his rear. Through watering eyes, Harry craned his head up and watched Snape, waiting for his reaction.

To Harry's relief, the man didn't hex him or raise his voice.

"I forgot I still had that in there," Snape murmured and strode over to where Harry was still kneeling. Folding his arms across his chest, he added, more sternly, "I do not believe this trunk belongs to you, does it?"

"I just wanted to know what was in it," muttered Harry, rubbing his sweaty palms on his shirt.

"I suggest you make a habit of gaining permission to go through other people's personal items, Potter. This was my own school trunk from when I was a student and it contains many of my childhood belongings." Snape crouched and pulled an old, hard cover book from the top of the pile inside the trunk. Then he shut the lid.

Just to be safe, Harry scrambled to his feet and took a step back from his professor. The man was acting a little odd this morning. He was not even coming close to nice, but he wasn't acting evil, either. It was almost a bit unsettling. Snape was supposed to be evil. That was expected. Evil was normal.

Snape glanced over at Dumbledore, who appeared to be waiting patiently for him to come back so they could continue their complicated discussion.

"The Headmaster and I have a lot of work to accomplish this morning, as we prepare for you and your mother's stay here this summer. I trust you won't be able to find anything to safely entertain yourself with and manage to stay out of trouble?"

Harry wasn't sure how to answer that. "Um..."

Snape didn't wait. He held out the thick book he'd pulled from the trunk. "This was one of my favourite books as a child._ Robin Hood_. Have you read it?"

Harry shook his head.

"Take it, but do not destroy it," said Snape, lifting his chin. "Go, and find some place to quietly read."

"Do I have to?" asked Harry, feeling his heart sinking down into his stomach.

"Yes. Go downstairs, stay in the house, and do not disturb your mother. You will be called for lunch when it is time. Go on, do as I say."

Shoulders sagging, Harry took the book from Snape's hand. He gave a resigned wave to Dumbledore as he passed him by, wishing the wizard would intervene and tell mean old Snape, 'no, let Harry stay. Harry can stay up here and be good and quiet while we work. But don't make him go downstairs and read. That's a cruel and unusual punishment, Snape. Harry can stay'.

But Dumbledore didn't say anything like that. As a matter of fact, he didn't say anything at all.

That was fine. They could be that way. Harry didn't care. He stepped carefully down the steep and narrow steps. He considered sitting at the kitchen table, but then decided that the sitting room would be better. The chair he'd curled up in the night before had been really comfy, and plus he could keep an eye on his mum. He wouldn't disturb her while she was sleeping, but if he could at least see her, that would be good.

He found her still sleeping on the couch. She'd rolled over, so he couldn't see her face, but at least she was there. Settling into his chair, he kicked off his trainers and socks, and curled his feet up underneath himself.

He glared at the book clenched in his hands. He'd always hated reading. It wasn't that he couldn't read. But he wasn't so good at it either, and that made it not much fun. No one liked to do things they hated.

Harry had heard of Robin Hood before. It was the man that robbed the rich to feed the poor. He remembered Dudley watching a film one time, maybe two or three years ago, about Robin Hood. It had looked like a fun story (better than reading the book), but Aunt Petunia hadn't let Harry watch it. She made him go outside to weed the garden, even though he'd already weeded it the day before. But that was all right, he'd concluded. Robin Hood was probably stupid anyway, and besides, you weren't supposed to rob people.

Now he finally had a chance to know the whole Robin Hood story, but he had to read the dumb book to find out. Why did Dudley always get the easy way out of things? He hadn't had to read the book. Snape just liked to make things hard on Harry, like making him read. That wasn't even _fair_.

Harry opened the book to some random page and was delighted to find that there were pictures scattered through it. Not every single page had pictures, but if you had to read a book, it was always better have one with pictures. They made things more interesting. And plus, if you were having problems with one particularly difficult word, the pictures could help you figure out what it said. Sometimes, if you were really lucky, you could figure out the whole book from just the pictures.

And this book had magnificent pictures. For a book so old and dingy looking on the outside, it was truly colourful and bright on the inside. At least, on the pages with pictures. They were simple, unmoving Muggle pictures, but they looked so real, Harry wouldn't have been at all surprised if the arrows shot right off the page.


	5. Two Potters and a Snape

**Chapter Five: Two Potters and a Snape**

Weariness was something Severus loathed to acknowledge. He and Dumbledore had finished putting all the spells and magic back into their rightful places upstairs; transfigured the material from the cupboards into beds and bedside tables. Finally, in the end, they'd cast thorough sanitizing charms upon every surface imaginable.

But while Dumbledore still looked as strong and cheerful as ever, Severus himself felt like limp pasta. The last twelve hours, coupled with the sleepless night he'd had, had been more emotionally draining than he would ever care to admit; most especially in the presence of his more powerful employer.

"Thank you for your assistance," he told Dumbledore, as they surveyed their work.

Dumbledore smiled. "Nonsense, Severus. I did help dismantle it all. You are the one taking on two house guests for the summer. I should be thanking you."

Severus tightened his lips. He refused to play that game with the nosy old man. Dumbledore was well aware of his feelings for Lily and also that he could never turn the woman away from his house, even if she had the Potter brat clinging to her skirts. He would prefer to not be reminded of the boy, but if it meant seeing Lily every day, he would put up with him.

As it was, he'd already thought the situation over a bit as he'd lain in bed the night before. He would do his best to be tolerant of Potter. He owed at least that much to Lily, and perhaps in the meantime he could get the boy to do his homework and other useful things. Something besides focusing on that damn broomstick, for he would certainly not be flying that around the neighbourhood. But if anybody thought he was going to coddle the boy, they were in for a rude awakening.

As if the older man had seen directly into his thoughts, Dumbledore spoke up, his voice low and warm, yet earnest. "You will try to be kind to Harry? After all, he is only a child."

"I will not shower him with hugs and sweets, if that is what you are referring to," sneered Severus. "But yes, I will do my best to be at least civil to him. Not because I like the boy, mind you, but because Lily deserves it."

"Did she not before?" Dumbledore cocked his head to one side as he studied Severus' stoic face. "When you thought her to be dead, did she not deserve even more then? And yet you have treated Harry better this morning than you have since the child ever set eyes on Hogwarts."

"This is not something I wish to discuss, Headmaster, and I would thank you to drop the subject," Severus ground out, spinning on his heels and leaving the newly renovated bedroom.

The truth was Severus knew that the older man was right. Logic was a trait he always prided himself in. Completely controlled, logical, and correct. And here Lily was back in his life for less than a day and he was acting like a fool. It was all incredibly ridiculous.

He reached the bottom of the staircase and was dismayed to find the kitchen empty. Hadn't he told Potter to stay in there and read? Oh, no... he hadn't. Another slip up on his part. Severus fumed as he entered the sitting room.

The child was sitting in the chair closest to Lily, but he didn't appear to be causing a disturbance. His dark, messy head was bent over the book he had been given and did not seem to notice Severus' entrance. The man cleared his throat.

Potter's head shot up so fast, he nearly dropped the book.

"Oh! Is it time for lunch already?" He twisted around to look at the clock.

Severus shook his head. "Hardly. I merely wished to check in on your progress and to see that you had not found any trouble." He gazed at the old storybook, noting with interest the place the boy's hands were holding the pages. "You are reading, I presume? Or did you just pick up this book in an asinine attempt to try and fool me?"

"Um, n-no, I'm reading."

"I'm sure." Severus was beside the chair in two quick strides and snatched the book from the boy's hands. "Ah, page 220 already, and so soon. It looks like you have been quite busy. Tell me, what happens in the first chapter?"

The child shrugged.

"A verbal response, if you would."

"I don't remember."

Severus shut the book and then leaned over Potter's chair, his own face so close to the boy's that he could nearly see his reflection in the smudged glasses. "You don't remember?"

"Okay, okay! I didn't read it! Are you happy now?"

"Do I look happy to you, Potter?" Severus asked, his voice hushed, as he stood straight again. "Can you not simply do as you're told for once in your miserable life? This is a storybook; not a textbook. You make things hard on yourself."

"I just don't like to read, okay?" the boy grumbled.

"No, it is not okay. Do not expect to live under my roof and keep up such an attitude. I assure you, I will have you finished with many books by next term and you will, hopefully, be all the wiser for it."

Slouching further, the boy frowned. "Can I go upstairs now?"

Severus gave a jerky nod and the boy wasted no time in leaping from his chair and hurrying out of the room.

Severus swore under his breath and turned around to see Dumbledore standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

The potions master scowled. "Have you been standing there the whole time?"

"I just stepped in," the old man said, eyes dancing. "I helped myself to some tea, I hope you do not mind. But now, I really must be getting back to the school. I have some ministry matters to attend to and it appears that you have things under control here."

Severus gave the man a blank stare, waiting for him to leave.

"Do greet Lily for me when she wakes, will you?" Dumbledore asked. "I suggest you try and get her in to see a Muggle doctor. She appears healthy enough, but I am certain a medical examination would not go amiss."

"I will be sure to relay that. Thank you."

Dumbledore took a pinch of Floo powder from the wooden box on the mantle. "Oh, and I would give Harry a rest for the time being. Being alone to sulk can sometimes work wonders on a child."

Dumbledore did not give any chance for a response before he was stepping into the Floo and was gone. The sounds of the Floo faded into a near silence and Severus' gaze sought the last source of noise in the room. The corners of his lips twitched.

Lily had always snored. Never was it loud or obnoxious, but it was there, if one listened close enough. She slept peacefully, her face pressed into a pillow; tousled hair falling to cover her fine features; but her back rose and fell steadily, the only real sign she was even alive.

That and the snoring.

He could have stood there and watched her breathe the rest of the day, but something felt wrong about that. His insides were writhing with guilt at a strength he hadn't felt in many years; not since the day of the funeral. As overjoyed as he was to have Lily back in his life, he feared the moment when she learned of his part in the tragic story that had become her life. And she would hear of it. Severus, prepared to hide nothing, would tell her himself.

Tearing his eyes away from her, he forced himself to move into the kitchen, where he sat down with a fresh cup of coffee. He drank too much of the stuff; he knew that. Pomfrey reminded him of the fact every so many weeks. But, he reminded himself just as regularly, a solid caffeine addiction was infinitely healthier than one of alcohol, particularly for a man who was genetically predisposed to such things.

Besides, he hadn't slept properly at all last night. After tossing and turning for two hours, he had made his way back downstairs, if only to make sure that Lily was indeed alive and well. Stepping carefully over the boy taking up his floor space, he'd selected some questionable books from his shelves and spent the rest of the night in his bed, perusing the tomes for any hint at all of what had happened that night in Godric's Hollow.

But by early morning, he had come up with nothing of substantial interest and was only left feeling exhausted and frustrated. He didn't mind problems arising, because he usually found the process of solving them quite satisfying. But this was a puzzle he could only find stressing and disturbing. He was missing something, and until he discovered just what that was it would be difficult to piece together much more.

Severus hated being kept in the dark.

A loud thud brought Severus' attention to the ceiling above. He had no great love for Harry Potter either. He had decided that long before he even met the boy, which was perhaps a bit hasty, but that was simply how it was.

The boy was a harsh, blunt reminder of so much that Severus wished he could forget. If he wasn't reminded of the dreadful days he'd spent as a student, he was hit with the stark reality of his and Lily's broken friendship and the one she had formed instead with James Potter.

He didn't begrudge her happiness. He couldn't. And she _was_ happy, that much had been obvious. He only wished he could have been the one to make feel that way. But he hadn't been capable of such a thing. That was something he had realized years after it was far too late. His guarded love for Lily had been an immature, selfish one. It was his own damn fault that he lost everything that truly mattered to him.

But Potter was the reminder. Severus didn't need that swift kick in the stomach every day of the school year; he would develop an ulcer.

Rustling of sheets in the next room had Severus lifting his eyes to the doorway. How was he supposed to proceed from this point? Small talk seemed so simple and pathetic, but what else was there? How do you pick up the pieces after more than a decade? Was it even possible? Severus always tried to have a plan; an obvious correct choice. But in this case, there didn't seem to be one.

Lily shuffled into the kitchen, bleary eyed, but alert. Her hair appeared like she had at least tried to comb it through with her fingers. Pulling out a chair, she plopped down beside him.

"Morning," she managed through a wide yawn.

"Barely, as it is nearly noon." Severus offered her the coffee pot.

"Oh, no thanks, I can't drink that revolting lifeline of yours. I'll just get some water. Where are your glasses?" she asked, already getting up and heading for the cupboards. After filling a glass from the tap, she came back and sat down.

Severus cleared his throat. "I thought we might attempt a trip into town this afternoon, if you are feeling up to it. I'm sure there are a number of things you need. Dumbledore also suggested we get you in to see a doctor."

"That's a good idea," she agreed.

"We can go by the office here and see if they can work you in."

"Sounds perfect. Why don't we have lunch, then go?" Glancing around the room, she asked, "Where's Harry at?"

"Upstairs," said Severus, and seeing no reason to hide the truth, added, "He's sulking, I believe."

"Oh," she murmured, wrapping her fingers around her glass. "Can I ask why?"

Severus sat back and stared. "Lily, he's _your _son. You have every right in the world to ask why."

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I know that."

"I only remind you because you seem to be..." Severus waved a hand in the air, unsure of what word he was searching for.

"Floundering? Lost?" She gripped her glass harder. "Maybe that's because I _am_, Severus. You ever think about that? All of a sudden, I'm the mother of an eleven year old, and I have no idea what I'm doing."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he turned his head. Why must they always get into these quarrels? Sometimes he wondered at the simple fact they remained friends as long as they did. They had never spared much patience for one another.

"You have always been his mother," he reminded her, hoping to ease some of her irritation.

But she shook her head. "No, I haven't. Not where it matters. And just because that's not my fault, doesn't mean I don't feel guilty about it."

"Take your time. That's why you are here, remember?" He reached out and gently tugged the glass from her iron grip. "Don't push yourself. No one in their right mind would demand anything more of you."

"And Harry?"

"I highly doubt he knows what to expect." Severus frowned, recalling how Petunia had reacted to Lily's arrival. "And as for his sulking, I don't believe he was impressed with being told to sit and read."

Licking her lips, she swallowed. "Oh. Do I need to...?"

"No, I don't think so. Unless, of course, you want to."

Lily laughed this time, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. "Listen to the two of us. Neither one of know what we're doing, do we?"

Severus remained silent, casting a quick warming charm on his coffee. But before he could pour any more, cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. Lifting his head, he met Lily's serious gaze.

"You'll help me, won't you? With taking care of Harry? Because I have no idea what I'm doing."

Arching an eyebrow, he said, "I am hardly ideal parental material."

"But at least you've got experience with kids. That's more than I can say." Sitting back in her chair, she released her hold on him, leaving him feeling empty. "I'm all alone now, Severus. I can do this by myself, but I'd prefer not to. Please help me?"

Ashamed, Severus swallowed and gave a slight nod. He had never meant to make her beg. "Anything, just ask me."

The stiffness in her posture seemed to vanish. "Thanks."

Sliding her water back in front of her, he stood up and walked across the room. When he returned to the table, it was with Lily's wand in hand.

"Dumbledore brought this with him today," he said, holding the wand out to her.

Lily stared at the thin, pale rod. It had been polished to look like new, but she didn't move to accept it and Severus set it carefully down on the table top.

"We thought you would be most eager to have it returned to you," explained Severus, shoving his hands inside his trouser pockets. "I understand it might be a bit overwhelming, being without it for so long. But I'm certain that with a bit of practice, you will be back up to your regular speed in no time at all."

"Thanks," she murmured again, still staring at the wand.

Severus wondered if she was perhaps recalling the last time she had used it.

"Are you not going to try it out?" he prodded her, as light footsteps sounded on the staircase.

Glancing upward, she shook her head. "No. No, I don't think so. Not yet."

But she did reach out for it, and yet when she grasped it, it was only to slide it into her dress pocket.

Seconds later, Potter burst into the room. He froze when he saw his mother at the table. "You're awake!"

Lily flashed the boy a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Mornings aren't exactly my favourite part of the day."

"Yeah, Professor Snape said you'd probably be tired." The boy dropped into the chair across from his mother. "Are you still?"

"Not so much. Did you sleep okay?" Lily asked the boy.

Potter nodded, now grinning ridiculously.

"No nightmares?"

"I'm almost twelve!" The boy ducked his head, blushing.

"Of course, Harry, but you know, even grown-ups have nightmares sometimes. Besides, it's a mother's job to ask those questions, and I've never even had the chance. Who else is going to ask? Humour me, hmm?"

Potter looked thoughtful for a moment, then grinned once again. "Are you hungry? There was toast. I don't know if there's any more, but I can make you some. Or eggs, or a sandwich, or anything else you want."

"Thanks, sweetheart, but I think I'm going to take a hot bath right now and then we're all going to have lunch, and go into town for a bit."

"I can come too, right?"

"Of course you can." Lily reached out and patted his hand. "We wouldn't leave you here alone."

Severus caught the smug look the boy sent him. The brat was insufferable. He longed to invent a potion with Potter as the main ingredient. It would be meant to cause misery.

"Why don't you stay here with Severus and see if you can help him?" suggested Lily, giving Severus a meaningful look. Of course she was going to insist he spend some time with the brat. She could be insufferable too.

The corners of Potter's lips turned downward. "Do I have to?"

Clearing his throat, Severus said, "Do not argue... Harry."

The boy's eyebrows shot up.

On her way to the staircase, Lily stopped and kissed her son's messy hair. Pausing, with her hand on the boy's head, she wrinkled her nose.

"Does anybody else smell dead fish?"

Potter had the grace to look slightly chagrined. "Um, oops?"

Wrinkling her nose again, Lily vowed the boy would get a bath that evening, and then she disappeared up the stairs.

When he was sure she was out of hearing distance, Severus turned to the child left in his care. He opened his mouth to speak, but the brat beat him to it.

"You're calling me Harry!"

"Listen, _Potter_, your mother has been through very much. While you and I may not care much for each other's company, it just so happens that this house is very small. We are going to be forced upon one another for the entirety of the summer. We should at least try to act civil in the company of your mother." Severus narrowed his eyes. "That means doing as you're told and behaving yourself."

"Well, it means you've gotta be behave, too," insisted Potter, eyes darting nervously around the room. "You can't just call me Potter when she's not looking."

"You are the child and I am the adult," Severus said through a clenched jaw. "I will call you what I wish to."

"But that's not fair!"

"Life rarely is. The sooner you accept that, the fairer it will become. Now come over here and set this blasted table."

The boy complied with shuffled footsteps, and Severus forced himself to take a deep breath. What the hell was Lily thinking, asking for his help? He was absolutely not cut out for parenthood. The only way this arrangement could end was in disaster.


	6. Taking Chances

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of the characters from it. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Taking Chances**

When the clock struck one, they were walking out the front door. Spinner's End was set in a rundown neighbourhood just outside of the small town of Baske; far enough away to conveniently forget about, now that the mill was closed. But still close enough to continue to receive the blame for everything wrong with the school or why the churches were feuding once again.

Spinner's End was an old street of dirty and cracked cobblestone. It was cramped with old houses on both sides, all pressed against one another, occasionally separated by narrow alleyways that gave one a glimpse of the next street and more rows of houses. Many of them stood empty now, as they had for years, as the last owners had most likely moved on to bigger and cleaner places. But for some reason, Severus stayed. He'd grown up there and he held very few fond memories of the place, yet he could never bring himself to leave it. He'd considered, at many points in his life, saving and moving into a small cottage in the country. A place where he could be alone during the summer and nobody would ever bother him. But the idea had never become more than just that, and he was still in the same old house, in all its decrepit glory.

Over lunch that afternoon, he and Lily had discussed finances. Severus' salary, while it was more than plenty to support him, would be stretched to house and feed two other people, one of which was a growing boy.

Lily, of course, had access to the Potter vault, but that money was to be used to fund her son's schooling and Severus refused to stoop down and use James Potter's money for anything. Lily and her son were living in his house and he was fully capable of providing for them. It would just require a bit of extra effort; something Severus was not opposed to.

Most of the potions Severus brewed during the summer were used to supply the hospital wing at Hogwarts. But that took very little time and Severus certain he could find a second apothecary to work for. He would put an ad in the _Prophet _next week. In the mean time, they would just have to make do.

His wallet would take its first hit today.

Soon the houses began sitting further apart, the streets looked somewhat cleaner, and there were more trees and shrubs. They reached the town and Severus could see, in the distance near where he knew the river to be, a little park and playground. One of the few places in life he had fond memories of.

"It's nearly just how I remember it," Lily said, lifting her chin and taking a deep breath.

Severus smirked. "Yes, the air just as foul as it always was. Nothing much has changed, except for some of the people, I suppose."

"Did you live here too?" Potter asked his mother, now walking backwards as to see his mother's face.

"Not right here, no. I lived – turn around, Harry, you're going to run into something. I lived another twenty minute walk that way." She pointed forward, past the school. "But Petunia and I used to come to the park to play all the time. That's how we met Severus. The playground was in town, halfway between our houses."

"Aunt Petunia was friends with Professor Snape, too?" The boy gaped.

Severus frowned. "Before you jump to any conclusions, let me assure you that we were never friends. I considered your mother my friend. Petunia, I considered a nuisance."

Lily sent him a glare. "Well, maybe if you had been friendlier."

"I am not a 'friendly' person in case you have forgotten," Severus reminded her, coming to a stop in front of the doctor's office. "Now, I do believe this is our first stop."

_And thank Merlin. _He did not wish to reminisce about his childhood with Potter.

Severus waited with the boy while Lily went inside to see if she could get an appointment. After a few minutes, she came out saying she could be seen in twenty minutes. When Severus moved to open the door for her again, she put a hand up in protest.

"I'll be fine here. You don't need to wait here."

He pursed his lips before saying, in a low voice as to not be overheard. "I am not fond of the idea of leaving you here alone."

"I won't be alone. There are plenty of people here."

Severus glanced over at Potter, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. The boy didn't need to be privy to such things. Instead, he stepped forward, took Lily by the arm, and gently pulled her a few feet away.

"Yes," he said in a hushed tone. "I suspect all these snivelling children and arthritic old men will be a great deal of help when an ill-intentioned wizard comes looking for you."

She gripped his wrist. "Are you trying to scare me, Severus? Because it's working. I don't need that. I really don't. I've been practically alone for ten years. Don't you think all these people make me anxious enough as it is?"

"I'm sorry." He covered her hand with his free one. "My intention was not to worry you, but to keep you safe. Should anything happen to you, I..."

"I'll be fine. This is Baske; not London." When he didn't respond, she insisted, "I need to do this. Don't you get it? I need to know that I can go, alone, into a room full of strange people and sit there and wait, without getting all worked up."

He let his hands drop back down to his sides. "Is that a possibility?"

"It's how it feels right now. The train ride here was torture." She swallowed, casting her eyes downward. "I used to love being with crowds of people."

The Lily of his childhood had been a social butterfly; always friendly and rarely shy. To see her now, trembling at the thought of being left alone with a large group of people, made Severus' stomach twist.

"You're right. You'll be fine," he found himself urging. "But if you're not certain, then I can stay. Whatever you ask."

"I'm not certain about anything." Lily bit her lip, but brought her head back up to strand straight. "But this is something I've got to do. Maybe you could get Harry out some books from the library, so he won't be so bored at home?"

Home. She'd called his house home. A shiver went up his spine and Severus cursed himself. He did _not_ get shivers, of all the most absurd ideas.

"An excellent idea," he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. But if he was going to be miserable, then Potter was too. "Do you have the money I gave you? And your wand?"

She hesitated, then patted her dress pocket. "Yes, all right here."

In a low voice, Severus said, "Do be careful. As far as I know, there have been no magical people in this town besides myself for many years, but that does not mean nothing can happen."

"I will, I promise. I'll be careful."

"We won't be gone long. If you're finished before we return, wait inside."

She beckoned to her son and gave him a quick kiss on the head. "Be good and listen to Severus, okay?"

"I will," said Potter, but looking none too happy at the prospect.

When she pulled open the door and let herself inside, she was shaking. But one thing was clear; her Gryffindor resolve and courage were just as strong as ever. All was not lost.

When the door shut, Potter spoke up from beside him. "Are you sure it's a good idea? My mum going off by herself like that?"

Severus began to walk down the pavement, knowing that the child would follow. "I will admit that I've had my doubts, but your mother requested the time alone. I do not think we should make this a habit, but it is in all likelihood that everything will be fine."

"Where are we going now?" the boy asked, jumping over the cracks in the pavement.

"Stop that ridiculous hopping, Potter," Severus snapped. "You will behave in public, do you understand?"

"Yeah, sorry." The boy immediately fell into a walk.

"Yes, _sir_."

"Sorry, sir," Potter mumbled, striving and failing to match Severus' long strides.

"Better."

"So where are we going?"

"Here." Severus stopped just outside the library, enjoying the look of horror that flashed across the child's face. "You are to remain silent inside, unless asked a question. The librarian happens to be one of our neighbours and she is not very fond of children, so I do not need you causing a scene for attention. "

The boy's mouth dropped open and he crossed his arms. "I don't!"

"Silence. We're going in now, and you will pick out two books for yourself."

"But I don't have a library card."

"That's no matter. I do, and because I am graciously allowing you to use it, you will be sure to treat the books with respect. Correct?"

Another mumbled "Yes, sir" and the unlikely pair made their way inside.

* * *

When they returned home, the work began of putting away groceries and organizing the kitchen. Potter was given the chore of unloading the bags and grouping the items together on the table, while Severus cleaned out the scarcely used and dusty cupboards. Lily came behind him and filled them with various food items.

"I think next time we'd better bring something to bring these back in." Potter rubbed the palm of his hand. "Those bags were heavy."

Lily glanced over at Severus. "A feather light charm, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." Severus wiped off another shelf. "I don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves."

"You're being too cautious. No one is even looking for me. Everybody still thinks I'm dead, remember?"

Severus glared. "Yes, I am all too well aware of that, in case you've forgotten."

"That's not fair, Severus!"

"Life rarely is." He took the cans of green beans from the woman's hands and set them in the cabinet.

She fumed. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

Severus was vaguely aware of Potter watching the two of them, rather warily, from the kitchen table. But the boy was silent for once.

"Then what did you mean, Lily? Do you know what the Dark Lord's plan was? Or how you even wound up in that mansion in London?"

"No, I don't. But –"

"No," he cut her off and looked her in the eyes. "You don't know. None of us do. So that would mean we have no idea yet who may or may not know that you're alive. None at all. I wasn't even aware that you survived."

There was an awkward silence as Lily looked at him. "Why would you know?"

For a moment, Severus felt as if somebody had reached inside of him and gripped an iron hand around his stomach. But he remained stoic and the feeling quickly passed.

"It's rather complicated," he finally said, exhaling. "Something to discuss later."

Lily made a face. "Just like everything else."

"A lot has happened. You must have more patience."

"Ha!" She snatched up a bag of rice. "That's rich, coming from you."

He frowned and went back to vigorously scrubbing out the cabinets.

"Um, maybe we could just bring a wagon next time?" Potter suggested.

Bewildered, Severus sneaked a quick look at Lily to find her with her hand over her mouth, covering a smile. Her eyes caught his, just briefly, and they were shining with merriment. Severus turned back to his work and, with his face hidden from view behind the cupboard door; he allowed a small smile to grace his features.

* * *

Right after supper, Harry found himself sitting in the bathtub. He'd managed to evade it for as long as he could, but eventually his mum had said that bedtime would be coming soon, and he was absolutely _not _going to get into his new bed all filthy. And besides, she was really tired of smelling dead fish. Then Snape had agreed and all but hauled him upstairs and into the bathroom. He'd started running hot water into the tub and handed Harry a towel.

"I will be back to check in on you in three minutes. If you are not in that tub, looking considerably cleaner, I assure you, you will be one very sorry boy," he'd threatened. "Do I make myself clear?"

Harry had grumbled in agreement and Snape left to go back downstairs.

Really, once Harry was in the tub, it wasn't nearly as bad as he made it out to be. It was just that he always preferred to be doing something else. Baths were so boring.

But remembering Snape's threat about looking cleaner, he reached for the bottle of shampoo the man had pointed out to him and poured some on his hair. He scrubbed at his face and dunked his head underwater to rinse off before it got into his eyes. When he came back up, he noted with vague interest that the water had gone from clear to kind of a murky brownish colour.

True to his word, a few minutes later, Snape poked his head in the door. "Are you making progress, Potter?"

Harry nodded. Couldn't he tell?

"The water is filthy. Let it out and refill the tub to rinse off when you're finished," Snape instructed him. "Then go get ready for bed."

"But it's only seven o'clock!" Harry swiped at the droplets of water that were falling from his hair onto his nose.

Snape pulled a silver pocket watch from his trousers pocket and held it up. "I am well aware of what time it is. You are to _prepare_ yourself for bed, not go to sleep. Unless you wish to, of course, because that can certainly be arranged."

Harry shook his head.

Snape smirked. "I thought not. Feel free to come downstairs if you wish, in your time before bed, to do something quiet. Or you may stay upstairs in your room. It's your call. But you will be in your bed at eight o'clock."

"Okay," grumbled Harry.

Snape didn't say anything else and bent over to scoop up Harry's dirty laundry from the floor, then went back downstairs.

A little bit later, Harry wrapped the fluffy towel around him, let the water out of the tub, and hurried down the hall into his new bedroom.

He grinned as he stepped inside. He'd helped his mum and Snape work on it that afternoon. And even if it was in Snape's house, Harry was still proud. It was his and his mum's room to share. All he'd had at the Dursleys' was the cupboard under the stairs and, for a short time, Dudley's second bedroom. Except that had never been Harry's. Not really. But this room was, even though it was at Snape's, and that made him feel good inside.

He'd even got the window like he'd wanted it and he could see out of it when he lay in bed. He knew because he'd already tested it to be sure. Snape had gotten out some spare quilts and sheets and his mum had let him pick whichever quilt he wanted to use. He'd quickly picked out the red one and Snape had mumbled something about Gryffindors that Harry was pretty sure wasn't very nice, but he didn't care. He _liked_ red. His mum had picked out a flowery quilt though, saying she thought it was pretty.

Even Hedwig had her own spot in the room, which she would usually be very happy about. Her cage sat on top of the chest of drawers and she was inside, but she was beginning to look annoyed with being so cooped up.

"Sorry, Hedwig." Harry frowned. He looked out the window, only just then noticing that it had been left partially open. He went to his owl and unlatched the door of her cage. "Go on, the window's open for you. You're probably ready to go play outside. I know I am."

Hedwig chirped happily and flew to the open window ledge. Already she looked more cheerful. She gave Harry another pleased chirp, and then flew outside.

Pulling on the oversized zoo t-shirt he liked to sleep in, he tossed his towel over the end of his bed, and sat down on the mattress.

He still found it kind of unbelievable that his mum was here. It wasn't even an awful joke. At first, he'd kept getting thoughts that would creep up and tell him it was all a prank. But after spending time watching her and Snape, he knew that she had to be his mum, because there was just no way Snape would act so weird to anybody else. He'd only known the Potions professor for less than a year, but he knew enough to know that Snape was acting different. Supposedly because Harry's mum was Snape's friend. Who would've thought Snape actually had friends?

But for friends, they sure did fight a lot. He frowned as he recalled the scene in the kitchen that afternoon. All Harry had done was bring up the idea of taking home groceries an easier way and somehow they got into a fight. It had been pretty clear that Snape was worried about Harry's mum and thought there were some evil wizards who were trying to find her. Maybe even Voldemort.

Remembering the face on the back of Quirrell's head, Harry shivered. No, not Voldemort. He didn't ever want to see him again.

When he went downstairs, his mum was sitting on the sofa alone.

Harry dropped down beside her, looking around. "Where's Professor Snape?"

"Harry, you're not in school and we'll be here all summer," she pointed out, tilting her head to the side. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you called him Severus."

"I think he might, actually. He's funny about those kinda things," said Harry, because he knew better. Snape would probably cut off his fingers for potions ingredients if he ever did such a thing.

"Hmm. Well, he's downstairs in the cellar, checking on the wash." She paused, and then leaned in a bit closer. "Sweetheart, how do you and Severus usually get along together? You've just finished your first year, right?"

"Yeah." He bit his lip. It had become pretty obvious to him over the day that his mum and Snape had been good friends at some point. "Well, um, I guess we get along okay."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Just okay?"

"Er, I don't know..." He didn't want to tell her the truth because that would make her upset, and Harry thought his mum had had enough sadness for a long time. "I just see him in class really. He doesn't like kids much."

But before she could ask anything else, Snape came in from the kitchen. He looked at Harry carefully. "Did you do as I told you?"

"Yes."

Snape just nodded and lowered himself into a chair. He picked up a cup from the coffee table and took a sip of it, then turned slightly, so that he was facing the sofa.

"Now," Snape continued. "Tell me, have you started your summer school work yet?"

"Um, no."

"No, sir," Snape corrected him. "Just because we are not in school, doesn't mean you have no reason to be respectful. At any rate, you can expect to start within the next couple of days. I know your Potions marks, so trust me; you will be spending designated time each day on your school work."

Harry closed his eyes and resisted the urge to groan. "Yes, sir."

He felt rewarded though when he felt his mum's hand gently rest on the back of his neck.

"Good boy," she whispered.

Harry smiled.

* * *

Later that evening, with Potter upstairs in bed, Severus found himself alone in the sitting room with Lily. From his favourite armchair he watched her, silently, fully content to say nothing at all. Just having her in his presence was soothing in a way he hadn't felt in far too long. It was relaxing, yet at the same time terribly distracting.

Having changed into some of her new clothes, Severus thought she looked like she was perhaps a bit happier. She'd tossed the dress she had been wearing before into the rubbish bin, saying she never wanted to see the old rag again.

Now she was standing near one of the bookshelves, gazing at the many dusty bindings and titles, her face pained. "So many Dark Arts books. I told you years ago to chuck them out, you know."

"They have been... useful." He waved a hand to indicate the books. "They have taught me a lot; even saved my life a few times."

"Hmm," was all she said, as she came back and sat down on the sofa. But after a few more minutes of silence, she said, "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

He shook his head. "Don't. You know that neither one of us will ever win an award for patience. I became too caught up in my own feelings and emotions. It was... unbecoming of me."

She gave him an appraising look and said softly, "I don't think so."

Severus reached out for the newspaper sitting on the coffee table and forced himself to ask a question that had been gnawing at him.

"May I ask," he began, "why it is that you did not seek out any of your other acquaintances? Better friends?"

She laughed, sounding more sardonic than amused. "What? You mean like the Longbottoms? Or Sally Heathworth? Mary McDonald? I can't even go to Sirius because he's–"

Severus cleared his throat. "I was referring to others actually. Lupin, perhaps?"

"I thought about that. But," she said, shoulders falling, "I wouldn't know where to even begin looking for him."

Severus rapped his fingers against the newspaper. "The Ministry would tell us if we were to ask."

"They have records on where werewolves live?"

"They have records on everybody," Severus said, his lips curling in disgust. "I can go and inquire about him tomorrow morning, if you wish."

"Really? You would do that? I thought you two didn't get on?"

"We don't."

"But you'll get his address?"

"For you, yes." Severus folded up the newspaper. He paused to give her a straight look. "Anything you ask."

"Thank you." She gave him a smile, but it was a pained one. Bowing her head, she began picking at her already short nails. "Listen, I want to talk to you, now that Harry's asleep. It's something he'll have to be told about eventually, but I felt as though I should discuss it with you and Dumbledore first."

Severus leaned forward. Had something happened at the doctor's visit? She said earlier that it had gone fine. Emotionally, the excursion had exhausted her. But physically, despite the fact that she was underweight and needed more vitamins, she was healthy.

Now Severus found himself concerned there was something wrong. Something she hadn't told him earlier. He waited for her to continue.

"I don't seem to have any magic, Severus," she told him, as if she was afraid of being overheard.

"What do you mean? I knew that you didn't have your wand, but-"

"No, I mean my magic is gone. Wand or not, I'm magicless."

Stunned, he sat back in his chair. "How can that be? Are you quite certain?"

"Just about." She shrugged.

Lily's _magic_ was gone? She had lost her magic? How did one _lose_ their magic? That was impossible, wasn't it? Magical energy could be temporarily depleted either by exhaustion or a violent illness, but one could still perform weak spells, if needed.

It was impossible to transfer magic from wizard to Muggle. Various wizarding scientists had attempted such over the years, usually with each experiment ending in catastrophe, often involving lawsuits and gory horror stories. Removing a person's magic wasn't something that _shouldn't_ be done. It _hadn't_ been done. A permanent loss was inconceivable.

Lily was so calm about this information, which Severus couldn't help but find unnerving. The woman talked about her potential loss of magic as you might imagine a person to speak of losing a shopping list.

"I don't understand," he finally admitted, shaking his head. "When... how?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. That... that night, perhaps. I don't remember feeling any sense of my magic since then. I used to be able to do a few wandless charms and such, but I haven't managed even one since that night. I don't know what happened, but I wanted you and Dumbledore to know."

"Lily, you're so calm about this!" He got to his feet and began pacing in front of his bookshelves. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

She stood up. "It didn't seem so pressing."

"Not pressing?" he sneered. "This is your magic we're talking about, not a missing textbook or a favourite quill. Do try and prioritize."

"I have been!" She glared daggers in his direction. "It may come as a shock to you, but my son comes before my magic."

He deflated a bit. "I know. I apologize. That was uncalled for. You've proven where your priorities are, trust me. I'm just rather shocked is all."

"I've had years to grow accustomed to the idea." Her face softened a bit and she laid a gentle hand on his arm. "The first couple of weeks... hell, the first couple of _years_, it was awful. It felt like a part of my very being had been stolen from me. Eventually I gave up and I cried for days. But lately, it just hasn't seemed as big of a deal to me. Not in light of everything that's happened in the last three days."

"I know," Severus admitted. He gazed at where her thin fingers were resting on his black cotton shirt sleeve, right over the Dark Mark. He wondered if she knew it was there. The feeling of her touch was tantalizing. He couldn't think straight with her so close. Abruptly he stepped back and turned towards the fireplace.

"I'm going to call the headmaster. There's too much to discuss, so much you need to know about," he said, not meeting her eyes. He reached for some Floo powder. "He should be involved in this."

He tossed in the Floo powder and requested Dumbledore's office. There was far too much for he and Lily to discuss, and he didn't trust himself to be able to explain everything he should to her. His pride be damned, he would need Dumbledore's assistance if he was going to tell Lily everything.

Shortly, they had a meeting set up at Hogwarts on Saturday night. There was no going back now. In two days, Severus was sure that Lily would want nothing to do with him ever again.

The ticking of the old clock on the wall seemed more ominous now. Every moment that went by now counted down another moment until he would lose Lily again, but this time he was certain it would be for good.


	7. The Sweetest Sadness

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of the characters from it. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

* * *

**Chapter Seven:****The Sweetest Sadness**

Harry woke with a start in the night, bolting upright and gasping for breath. A quick glance around the dark room reassured him that he was still in Snape's house and not in that cramped little room made of mirrors.

He glanced over to make sure his mum was still sleeping in her own bed and gratefully recalled how Snape had mentioned that she was such a deep sleeper.

The furious pounding in his chest slowed and Harry released a deep breath. It had been the same dream he'd been having since his run-in with Quirrell at the end of term. Quirrell took off that turban and there was Voldemort's face on the back of his head. But for some reason, it was much more frightening in his nightmares, because during those he couldn't run or scream or do anything. He couldn't help himself. And instead of Quirrell getting burned every time he touched him, Harry went up in flames instead.

Harry scowled. Even when he'd been a little kid, he'd had nightmares. But he blamed that on Dudley and Piers. The other boys used to hold him down in front of the telly and force him to watch scary horror films until he was too scared to go to sleep at night. Those scenes and sounds still came back to haunt him at times.

Yawning, Harry grabbed up his glasses and crept out of the room as quietly as he could. Snape's bedroom door was shut, thankfully, because Harry doubted he could have got past Snape's room otherwise. The hall and staircase were nearly pitch black, so he took the steep steps extra slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the dark.

When he got to the kitchen, he switched on the light and squinted at the sudden brightness. Grabbing a glass out of the cupboard he filled it with cold water and drank it down. As the liquid in the glass disappeared, so did the vivid images in his head.

By the time the glass of water was gone, so was the nightmare. He felt calmer. More rooted into reality. He felt sleepy again. Then he went back upstairs to bed.

Despite his loss of sleep during the night, Harry woke up early again the next morning. It was raining outside, making the gloomy view outside the window even drearier than usual. He went downstairs to find Snape sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.

Harry dropped down into a chair.

Snape gave him a quick glance and wordlessly handed him a napkin.

Harry rolled his eyes, but rubbed his eyes and face with it anyway. He tossed it onto the table when he was done.

"In the rubbish bin, Potter." Snape lowered the newspaper. "Even you should know better than to toss that on the table where people eat."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled and went to go drop the napkin in the bin beneath the sink. He came and sat back down. "It's dumb anyway."

Snape frowned. "Dried drool on a little boy's face and sleepy eyes are not a sight anybody wants to see at the breakfast table, I assure you. Better you learn that now, before you are someday trying to impress some silly Gryffindor girl."

"Girls are gross." Harry wrinkled his nose.

"Ah. Ms. Granger, as well then?"

"She's not... well, Hermione's different."

Snape picked up his newspaper once again. "The longer you have that philosophy, the better."

"Huh?"

But Snape had evidently dropped the subject. He waved his wand and a glass of milk floated over to the table, landing next to the pile of toast.

"Eat," Snape instructed.

Eagerly, Harry grabbed up the glass of milk, but then paused to give Snape a careful look. He realized that he'd just had an almost normal conversation with the man.

Brushing it off, Harry brought the glass of milk to his lips. He loved milk; not quite as much as he loved pumpkin juice, but it was pretty close. Except for when he was at Hogwarts, he rarely got any. The Dursleys never bought much of it, since they didn't drink it by itself. Dudley thought it was gross and always preferred more sugary drinks. But Harry thought milk was wonderful.

But this milk wasn't. Harry nearly choked at the unexpected taste in his first sip. Swallowing hard, he cast accusatory eyes towards Snape, but the man wasn't paying him any attention.

"What did you put in my milk?" he demanded.

Snape didn't even look up. "What makes you think I did anything of the sort?"

Harry's mouth dropped open. Snape really was trying to poison him. He should have known. He shouldn't have ever let himself think for even an instant that Snape might be okay. He wasn't even twelve yet and he was going to die.

"It tastes funny! I know you did something to it!"

This time Snape did put aside his paper and gave Harry a curt nod. "How very astute of you. But you've already had a sip. Had that been a lethal poison, you would have most likely dropped dead by now. You should already know that nutritive potions have a very distinct smell. Did you not notice it?"

A nutritive potion? Harry sniffed at the white liquid, noticing now that with the usual slightly sour smell of milk, there was a faint smell of vanilla wafting from it. He took another tiny sip, this time prepared for the extra flavour. It wasn't so bad when he was expecting it. Actually, it was on the verge of being _good_. But there was no way he'd tell Snape that.

"How was I supposed to know what it was?" Harry put the glass down. "It could've been anything."

"This is a very simple potion. You brewed it in class only six weeks ago. Don't you remember?"

Harry did remember, now that Snape brought it up. But Harry was also quite certain that his potion had come out smelling more like rotting onions than vanilla.

As if Snape was reading his mind, he sneered, "Of course, that was one of your more abysmal attempts in brewing. I happen to recall the classroom being overcome by the odour of rotting vegetation."

Grimacing, Harry pushed the milk away. He had tried. He always tried hard in class, but sometimes it was still too hard and potions was the worst. There were too many things you had to get just right. Harry had hoped that it would be more like cooking, and you could kind of guess and change things if you wanted to. Harry _liked_ cooking.

Snape nudged the milk back over to him. "Drink it."

"But why?"

"Because, Potter, you are a runt. That may be help to you in Quidditch, but not later in life." Snape's eyes flickered upward, and then he leaned forward. "I promised your mother I would help care for you this summer, and if that means shoving a nutritive potion down your throat every morning, I have no qualms about doing exactly that."

A vision of Snape yanking Harry's mouth open and pouring buckets of gross looking potions down his throat made Harry want to gag. He pulled the glass back in front of him, gave it a careful look, and took another sip.

"All of it." Snape's gaze darkened. "And while we are on the subject, food will not be wasted in this household. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, tearing a piece of dry toast in half and stuffing some in his mouth. He would never waste food. Dudley did all the time, but Harry had been hungry enough to know better.

Snape went back to his paper, finally allowing Harry to eat his breakfast in peace. He considered what Snape had said about promising to help take care of him. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. Did that mean Snape could give him detention too? The idea of scrubbing cauldrons all summer long didn't sound appealing at all.

Besides, he didn't need taken care of. Harry could take care of himself just fine. He always did, didn't he? What could Snape possibly do for him?

Harry finished his toast, chasing the contents down with the rest of his milk. When he sat the glass back down, Snape waved a hand towards the stairs.

"If you're finished, then go get dressed. This may be summer, but you will not stay in your sleep clothes all day long."

Harry hopped out of his chair and started for the stairs.

"Potter?"

Harry stopped and looked over his shoulder.

Snape sat his coffee cup down. "If I go upstairs after your bath again to find that you left a trail of water on the floor from the bathtub to your bed, you will not like the consequences. Is that clear?"

Harry swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Then you are excused."

Needing no other encouragement, Harry turned and took the stairs two at a time.

* * *

Later that morning Harry was leaning over the back of the sofa. He had the curtains pulled aside so that he could watch the rain pelt the cobblestone streets. He had very much wanted to go outside and explore the neighbourhood today, but he was beginning to doubt that the thunderstorm would let up in time.

Just an hour earlier, Snape had left the house, saying he would be gone for a few hours. Harry didn't ask him where he was going, because he'd looked to be in a worse mood than he was usually in. So Harry had sat quietly on the sofa and watched Snape step into the fireplace. Snape told him it was called a "Floo" and had grumbled something about magical properties and transportation. Harry had just nodded, like he understood.

After Snape disappeared from the hearth, Harry had investigated it, being careful to stay outside of it. The idea of suddenly disappearing off to who-knows-where didn't sound appealing in the slightest.

He'd heard his mum get up not too long afterwards and turn the shower on. He was eager for her to come downstairs, after such a quiet and lonely morning.

Tracing a long crack in the glass with his finger, Harry released a small sigh. Very rarely did he feel like this; bored and empty, with nothing to do and nowhere to play. At the Dursleys', if he hadn't been busy with chores or school, then he had been sure to make his self scarce. He played for hours down at the park on some days. On others, he would roam the neighbourhood, making up fun things to do as he went along. Hogwarts hadn't been much different, except that he had friends to do fun things with.

But here at Snape's house, Harry was bored already. The house was so small and from what Harry had seen out the back window, the garden wasn't anything to boast about. But the neighbourhood, although gloomy and cramped, was interesting looking. Harry was sure that if it would just stop raining then he could get back to having fun again.

Thunder rumbled again, shaking the house just slightly. Giving up completely, he leaned his forehead against the window pane, enjoying the feel of the cool glass. He yawned and let his heavy eyes fall shut.

"You look like you're ready for a nap," his mum's voice carried over to him.

Harry twisted around to find her standing in the doorway. He loved hearing her speak. Her voice wasn't high and shrilly like Aunt Petunia's, or raspy like Aunt Marge's. It wasn't brisk like Professor McGonagall or even overly sweet like some of the ladies he met in the supermarket.

Her voice was filled with just the right amount of kindness and warmth, that when she sat on the sofa at night and spoke, Harry felt safe enough to fall asleep. And in the morning when she came downstairs and greeted him, he wanted to run over and hug her, even though he didn't.

At the same time, there was something else and he wasn't sure exactly what to call it. There was an emotion in her voice when she talked to him, one he was sure he couldn't remember being directed at him before. But he liked the warm feeling it gave him.

"I'm not tired," he told her now, resisting the urge to rub at his traitorous eyes. "Just bored."

She pushed a strand of damp hair out of her face. "Well, do you want me to do something with you?"

Harry shrugged. He wasn't used to _finding_something to do. Something usually just found him.

She wandered over to the sofa and looked over his head out the window. Folding her arms across her chest, she grimaced.

"Yeah, it's nasty looking out there, isn't it?" With a sigh, she stepped back again. Then, as if just realizing they were alone, she glanced about the room. "Where's Severus at? Did he leave already?"

Harry nodded. "He said he'd be back in a few hours. Do you know where he went?"

"The Ministry of Magic to look up an old friend, so that I can write him a letter. His name is Remus."

"Oh... was he dad's friend too?"

She gave him a fond smile. "A very good friend. You know, I'm kind of surprised you don't know him. I thought he might've visited you once every so often."

Harry shrugged one shoulder. He had never even heard of such a strange name. He was pretty sure he would remember if a man named Remus had come to see him.

"Harry, let's just talk, okay?" His mum lowered herself onto the sofa. "Why don't you tell me about your friends?"

His mouth dropped open, but he covered for it quickly by forcing out, "Um, okay."

He slid down to sit on the sofa and pulled his bare feet up underneath him. A quick glance at his mum told him that she was waiting expectantly and he searched his mind for something he could say.

"Well, I met Ron Weasley on the train in September. He's in Gryffindor too and he likes Quidditch a lot. Then there's Hermione and she's super smart. She's always reading books or studying or something. She can be kind of bossy sometimes, but we just try and ignore her when she gets like that."

As Harry went on, he found he didn't have to really think so much, but just let the words come. It was easy, because his mum didn't say a whole lot. Sometimes she would hold up a hand and ask a question or laugh at a funny story, but for the most part, she was quiet, saying nothing at all.

She was _listening._Harry could feel it and he soaked that feeling up, not caring any more that he was rambling and might not even be making sense sometimes. No one had ever been interested in his life before he came to Hogwarts, and even then, no one had been interested in _him_. They wanted to hear about the Boy-Who-Lived; not Harry.

But his mum didn't care about the Boy-Who-Lived. He knew she didn't because she didn't ask him any stupid questions about that night or anything about Voldemort. She wanted to hear about how his favourite colour was red; about how being a Seeker was and how he liked flying. What was his favourite subject in school? And what did he like to eat?

Harry told her all of this without reservation. He told her about how Hagrid had come and told him that he was a wizard and about how he'd taken him to Diagon Alley. She listened even more closely at this part. He could tell by the ways her eyes narrowed just slightly and the way she stopped twirling her finger in her hair.

However, when he reached the part of the story about how he, Ron, and Hermione had gone looking for the Stone, Harry faltered. He didn't want to worry her. But after gauging her reaction, he pressed on because he had an idea that she would _want_ to know and, honestly, Harry didn't want to keep any secrets from her. He wanted his mum to understand _everything_. Besides, if Snape told her about that adventure first, she might get the entirely wrong story and Harry didn't want that to happen.

When he finally finished the story of his first year, he sat there quietly, just thinking. All of a sudden, his brain just felt tired. His mum went into the kitchen and she brought back some glasses of cold water, which Harry drank with earnest.

He drained the glass and put it down on the coffee table. He turned to his mum only to find her watching him, an almost melancholic smile on her face.

"Thank you." She sat her own glass down.

"For what?"

"Just for telling me about you. These are things I've always wondered, but could only guess about. I haven't got to watch you grow up, not like I was supposed to." She gave a grim twist of the mouth and folded her hands into her lap. "Your dad and I used to talk all the time about what kind of things you'd get into at school."

Harry's lips curled into a half smile. "Can you tell me about Dad?"

She gave him a half smile. "Your dad was wonderful, sweetheart. He was one of the best men I ever knew. What is it you want to know?"

Harry didn't know exactly. He was beginning to feel connected to his mum in a way he never had, but he wanted to feel connected to his dad too. "Everything."

"Okay then." His mum released a small laugh. Quieting down, she said, "Your dad smiled all the time. Very rarely did I ever see him without a big grin on his face. Even when he was sleeping, he smiled. He loved to have a good time, and when he was a student, that got him into lots of trouble. But as he grew older, he learned when the appropriate time was for such fun and when it wasn't.

"His favourite colour was green, but he would never admit that because it was a Slytherin colour. He always talked about learning to drive a car, like Muggles do, but he never did learn."

It was like a switch had been turned on and the need for more information poured over Harry in a desperate rush. What had his dad liked to eat? Did he like to read? Who were his friends?

His mum continued on, much the same way he himself had gone on with his own stories. Except instead of asking questions, like she had, Harry stayed completely silent. He didn't want to interrupt, half afraid if he did, she would stop talking.

People had told him a few things here and there about his father before, but it had always been like hearing a great legend. Always about how nice a man he'd been or what a great Chaser he was. Never the little things; the things that made him real. Things his mum was telling him.

"Your dad loved sports of all kind, including the Muggle kind. You probably know this, but his favourite game was Quidditch and he was quite determined to make sure you played for Gryffindor. His friends would come over to the house all the time, and I swear, they were trying to make sure you could fly before you could even walk."

His mum was watching him with a happy smile. Not a sad or wistful one. It was just happy.

"Your dad didn't take his schooling very seriously until he was older. Probably around sixth year, I think it was." Her brow furrowed. "But he loved Defense class, and he was also quite good at Transfiguration. He was an _Animagus_. Do you know what that is?"

Harry shook his head.

"An _Animagus_ is what they call a witch or wizard who can transform their body into an animal form. Not everyone can manage it, and even when they do, it's not usually until they're much older than you are. But your dad could do it. His form was a stag."

"Wow," Harry breathed. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his dad's stag might have looked like; grand, no doubt, and strong. "Can you do that too?"

"Oh, goodness no." She made a face. "I was always rubbish at Transfiguration. I'm much better at Charms and Potions. Your dad used to tease me all the time, any time I'd ask him to transfigure something."

A slight, dull ache began in the pit of his stomach and he pulled his legs up, wrapping his hands around his knees. Talking about his dad was supposed to have made him feel closer to him. But so far that hadn't happened. The hole in his heart seemed to have been dug deeper. These weren't memories. They were just facts; true, more intimate facts than he'd ever heard before, but still just facts.

In that moment the cold, hard truth poured over Harry. As much as he longed for it, he would never have the relationship with his dad that Ron had with Mr. Weasley. Or even like the one Dudley and Uncle Vernon shared when they joked around or fought over the radio in the car. He didn't have any memories like those and he never would. It wouldn't happen. His dad was gone.

The ache transformed rapidly into a sharp pain and moved up through his body into his chest. He gave a sudden gasp for breath.

His mum blinked at him. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

Harry moved his gaze to her and he silently scolded himself for thinking so selfishly. What was he doing feeling sorry for himself? He was being ungrateful. He'd always known his dad was dead. He'd always thought his mum was too, and he was very lucky to even have her now. Wishing for a dad was just being greedy and it certainly wasn't fair to his mum. He didn't need a father.

"Harry?" she prodded, putting a hand on his elbow.

Giving it no second thoughts, Harry threw himself at his mother. She seemed surprised, but only for the briefest second, because she didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight. Feeling a hand came up to cup the back of his head, he buried his face in her hair. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled, savouring the scent of vanilla and soap. This was something he didn't ever want to forget. If for some reason something terrible happened and he never saw his mother again, he wanted to remember what she smelled like; what it felt like to have her hug him.

"Are you okay?" she murmured, moving her hand down to his back.

"I'm fine." He wound his arms around her neck. "I just – I'm glad you're here. Don't leave."

He wouldn't have thought it possible, but she held him tighter.

"I won't. I'm never going anywhere without you. I promise, okay?"

Harry had been lied to and let down far too many times, but he didn't doubt her. She meant what she said.

They sat like that for some time, until the Floo flared up, signalling Snape's return. Before the man could come through, Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and excused himself from the room.

* * *

After dinner, Severus stood downstairs studying the cellar walls, calculating the numbers and measurements in his head. The cellar would work as a potions room, but it needed to be bigger. With some magic, it could be slightly enlarged. Not much, but every bit would help.

Busy footsteps above told him that Lily and Potter were still in the kitchen. Severus hoped that Lily had put the brat to work. Potter had been difficult since he had returned from his errands; sulking, glaring, and just petulant in general. After dealing with that, working alone in the cellar had begun to seem a lot more appealing.

The visit to the Ministry had gone about as well as he had expected it to. There had been endless bureaucracy and he had wanted to hex more than a few employees before he located the correct office to inquire about Lupin's location. Once there, he'd had to take a number and wait for over half an hour in the Werewolf Registry office while a burly man in worn robes fretted about his new neighbour.

Afterwards, he paid a quick visit to the Daily Prophet, leaving them an ad to run in the classifieds next week. By the time he'd returned home, he was angry at the human population in general and had been glad to learn Potter was upstairs. But the boy's impudence through dinner was enough to aggravate a patient man and Severus was not in the mood to deal with such childish behaviour. He'd quickly finished his sandwich and abandoned the kitchen for the tranquillity of his soon-to-be potions lab.

Lily would write to Lupin soon, perhaps even that afternoon. What would the wolf think of such a letter? Severus smirked as he scribbled some measurements onto a piece of parchment. Undoubtedly he would be shocked, and preferably suspicious, if he had any brains at all. After he got over the shock, he would want to see Lily and Severus had no intentions of discouraging that.

The very idea already made him slightly jealous, but that meant nothing. Lily was her own person and he was lucky to even have her in his life. He would never try and control her. That's what his father would have done and Severus had long ago vowed to never become that man.

Pushing dark memories from his mind, Severus picked up his wand and stepped away from the long table in the middle of the room. He closed his eyes and inhaled. It would be no good to try and perform such a complicated spell when he was tense.

More ready, he lifted his wand and began to softly chant the spell he had studied earlier that morning. As he slipped in the numbers and measurements, he was pleased to see the walls of the room moving just slightly outward.

Stairs creaking caused his attention to wane and he gave a quick glance behind him to where Potter was preparing to invade the room. He reached an arm out to keep the boy from hopping off the last step.

"Wait," he instructed, not taking his eyes off the moving walls.

Potter sucked in a breath. "How do you do that? Can I help?"

"And bring the house crashing down upon us? I think not. Stay where you are."

The boy clearly needed a lecture on the rules of underage magic, as the one the first years had received upon leaving the school had evidently not gotten through to him. But Severus wasn't inclined to give him one. The Ministry would suspect nothing of magical activity in Baske and the boy needed all the practice he could get. By all rights, Harry Potter should be the most well trained wizard in Britain.

After a few more minutes, Severus was satisfied and pocketed his wand. He turned to Potter to find him sitting on the stairs, his eyes wide.

"That was an area expansion spell. Quite useful, but also dangerous if performed improperly. Now, can I help you?"

Potter lifted his shoulders.

"Shrugging is not an acceptable answer here." Severus took a step closer and crossed his arms. "Do you need something or are you simply out to drive me mad today?"

"I dunno," Potter mumbled, moving his hand to pick at some peeling brown paint on the wall.

Severus swatted his hand away. "Unless you want to repaint that sooner than later, do not pick the wall."

The boy glared up at him and Severus rolled his eyes. "Are you simply feeling insolent then? Well, fortunately I can cure that."

"What's 'insolent'?"

"It means you are being absolutely Gryffindor, Potter, which I will add, is not a compliment." Severus went back to the table and picked up a long handled ladle.

"My mum's a Gryffindor and you like her."

Severus felt his shoulders stiffen. That was true, but it was no great accomplishment for Potter to pick up on such a thing. Severus did nothing to hide the fact that he cared for Lily. But Lily was the _only_ Gryffindor that he had ever cared for.

"That's beside the point."

"No, it isn't."

Severus clenched his hand more tightly around the ladle's handle. "Go and find something to occupy yourself with."

"Like what?"

"Honestly, boy! You have library books upstairs. Go read or write some letters to your friends. Anything. Just leave me be. I don't wish to be bothered."

Potter's shoulders slumped. "Can't I just stay here and watch you? Please?"

Severus tried to keep himself from looking too perplexed. What was it he wanted? To sit around in the drab, cold cellar with him? Even the thought of it was absurd. There was no lost love between the two of them. They had never wanted anything to do with each other in the past. Why start now? Severus saw no reason to and he had certainly never had a problem with denying begging children before.

"No."

Potter cast his eyes downward and picked at another piece of paint. "I'll be quiet."

"Unlikely." Severus flicked his wand, sending a mild stinging hex in his direction.

"Ouch!" Scowling, Potter pulled his hand back and stuck the offended fingers into his mouth.

"I warned you." Severus pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it. He wanted to finish the lab by supper time. "It stopped raining an hour ago. Go out into the back garden for awhile. Perhaps some fresh air will make you less cranky."

"But I'm not."

"_Go_, Potter!"

Throwing him one more dirty look, Potter turned around and marched up the stairs.

Severus watched him go, satisfied when the door shut above. This is what he had meant when he told Lily he wasn't cut out for parenting or caring for children. Caring for children usually implied you _liked_ them. That was the person who would have given into Potter's sullen pleading and probably would have set up some ridiculous game or activity for him. Severus just wanted to be away from the brat.

The discipline part of parenting Severus knew he could handle. He had no misgivings about standing the boy in the corner or having him scrub floors and cauldrons. If his attitude didn't improve, Potter would find his nose planted in of the two locations.

Going back to organize the utensils on the table, Severus shook his head. If Harry Potter wanted to spend his afternoon in the cellar with _him_, then the boy must be desperately bored. No one wanted to willingly spend their time with Severus Snape; especially a child. If for some inane reason one _did_ wish to, they would certainly never admit it, much less attempt it.

The boy lacked more sense than Severus had originally thought.


	8. Farther Forward

**Chapter Eight: Farther Forward**

It was early Saturday morning and Severus sat alone at his kitchen table, enjoying his cup of coffee. Or, rather, he was trying to enjoy it. It was times like this, when it seemed as if his past was going to rush up and swallow him whole, that he was quite certain that if he started drinking, he would never stop.

He and Lily had a meeting with Dumbledore for six o'clock that evening at Hogwarts. He was going to tell her absolutely everything and the thought terrified him. He still had no idea what the best way to word anything would be, but really, what did that matter? It was the context that truly counted and nothing he could say would change what it all meant in the end.

It was his fault that James Potter was dead and that Lily had spent eleven years apart from her own son, locked away in a mansion alone, held captive. It was his fault that she was no without any magical ability. Yet she had come to him for help.

If only she had known. If she had known that it was he who had delivered the prophecy to the Dark Lord, Severus was sure she would have never come at all.

They had never really made up after that horrible day in fifth year. Not completely. Oh, they had remained polite acquaintances. They would nod hello and there might be "How are you? Fine. Good." if they happened to cross paths. But no longer did they study together or go on long walks around the lake. Before, nearly every day of every summer, they would meet up in a small grove of trees off the park where they would spend hours there, talking and making up silly stories to amuse themselves. They would do their summer school assignments and sometimes just sit in companionable silence. But Severus hadn't been back there since, refusing to go alone.

Years down the road, long after turning away from the Dark Lord to side with Dumbledore, it would occur to him. Why hadn't he listened to Lily? He could have stopped what he was doing. He should have turned away from that path.

He was too prideful. So certain he was right. But thinking about it later, regretting his choices, he knew in his heart that as long as he was going down that dark road, she would have nothing to do with him. He hadn't understood until it was too late. He had been so foolish.

So it now begged the question of why she had come to him for help, when the last she had seen or heard of him, he had still been travelling down the same dark road as a slave of the Dark Lord. Perhaps it was simply because whatever stupid choices he made, she knew that he could never say no to her.

With an inward groan, Severus sat his coffee mug down. Even thinking about that evening and what was to come made him sick to his stomach. He'd known since Lily had come through his front door several days ago that he would have to tell her everything eventually. At first he had fooled himself into thinking that he would be able to do it on his own. But eventually, after much procrastination, he admitted to himself that he couldn't. Hogwarts was the best place, he'd decided. It was a place they were both comfortable at and it gave Severus a designated place to say what he had to. And of course, they would be alone, except for Dumbledore, who Severus hoped to use as a mediator of sorts.

Thinking of Lily, Severus noted how much better she looked already. While she had not been starved while locked away, she hadn't taken to eating much. The clothes she'd worn when she first arrived had been old and worn and she had looked tired and worried. Now she looked much happier and sometimes, for the briefest of moments, even carefree. When she smiled or laughed, he felt himself instantly pulled back to their days in the grove where they had been young and happy, and wished fervently that the feeling could last longer than a few seconds at a time.

A creak of a floorboard from upstairs interrupted his musings and he grimaced. Potter was apparently up and that meant that it wouldn't be long now before he was downstairs at the table, just like every morning now. With a slight grunt, he stood up and went to drop a few pieces of toast into the toaster. The boy would no doubt be ready to eat and Severus was not about to let him starve, even if he didn't like him.

Making the brat breakfast every morning was not a caring gesture, Severus told himself, as he poured a glass of milk. It was a simple requirement when one had a child living in your home. He refused to acknowledge the little fact that he could easily demand the boy pour his own milk and make his own toast. At eleven years old, he was quite capable of at least that much. But Severus combated that thought with the idea that he did not want to have to deal with any unnecessary messes that having the child make his own breakfast might entail. It was far easier to just go ahead and make the toast and milk. It would save him a lot of annoyance in the future, he was sure.

* * *

That afternoon, Severus found himself in the cellar and wishing he could simply lock Potter upstairs in his bedroom. Only Lily's presence and memories from his own childhood kept him from actually doing so. Instead, he gritted his teeth as he looked up at the boy, sitting with slumped shoulders on an overturned cauldron.

"Potter," he growled. "Have I not made it abundantly clear that I don't want you down here?"

"I just want to watch..."

"No. Go upstairs."

"Can't I help then?" Potter stopped shuffling his bare feet against the floor. "What are you doing?"

He came over to where Severus was standing at the table and Severus promptly moved his knives to the other side of the table, out of the boy's reach.

"Inventory," said Severus.

"What's that?" Potter pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Honestly, did they not teach you anything in primary school?" sneered Severus, tapping his fingers against the table top with perhaps more force than necessary. "Inventory is when you make a list of how many items you have."

Comprehension dawned on the boy's face. "Oh, so you can know what you're out of?"

"Indeed. No, Potter, do not touch that!" He swatted the boy's hand away from a box of Muslap powder. "Without gloves, you will be itching for days."

"Sorry." Potter bit his lip.

Severus exhaled slowly. "What is your mother doing? Can you not help her with something?

"She's dusting off the books and shelves in the sitting room." Potter yawned and walked around to the other side of the table. "Said she didn't want me to mess up your books."

"As I'm sure you would find a way to do," said Severus, although he was more sure that Lily hadn't wanted her son handling the many Dark Arts volumes that lined the shelves.

He watched as the boy stepped away from the table and turned, gazing at the newly renovated, though still quite small room.

"Do you brew potions _all _summer long?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I do manage to squeeze in a few hours of sleep every now and then."

"Well, what d'you use them for?"

"They're used in the infirmary at Hogwarts. Although this year..." Severus paused and quickly tallied up his jars of trout scales. "This year I will be attempting to sell some for a few apothecaries."

Potter pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Like for your own business?"

"Not quite."

"Oh."

It was quiet after that, although only for a few minutes. Potter amused himself by walking around the large table, eyeing all the different jars and vials. Severus had his mind completely focused on counting a tedious amount of jars of puréed frog tongues when Potter let out a pained cry.

Severus' gaze shot up to find Potter standing in the corner across the table. He wore a strained expression and his eyes were streaming.

"Potter, what on earth is the matter with you? You look..."

His gaze dropped to the boy's left foot and he pinched the bridge of his nose. A mousetrap was clamped over the boy's bare toes and Severus cursed himself for not tossing the old trap out days ago. Throwing down his list and quill, he hurried around the table.

"What have you got yourself into this time?" he muttered, gripping the boy beneath his arms and lifting him to sit on the table.

Potter remained silent, but a quick glance at his stoic face showed Severus the boy was still in pain, as his eyes watered and his lip was chewed on.

With nimble fingers, Severus carefully pried the trap off the boy's dirty toes and promptly tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin. Then he took the small foot into his hands and applied gentle pressure to it.

"Does that hurt?" He glanced back up into Potter's face.

The boy swallowed and nodded.

"All right then." Severus let go of his foot and went to a nearby upper cabinet, where he pulled out a large jar of salve. He brought it to the table. "Your toes aren't broken, but they are quite bruised, so I'm going to apply this salve to your foot. It should soothe the pain in just a few minutes."

Without waiting for a response, the he unscrewed the lid from the jar and dipped his fingers into the pale, yellow cream. He took Potter's foot into his hands again and began to rub the salve in.

Potter sucked in a breath at first, and then released it slowly as his pain was soothed away.

After a few moments, Severus wiped his hands on a nearby rag and sat the jar back down on the table.

"Better?" he asked, watching the boy closely.

"Um, a little bit, yeah." Potter blinked away the moisture in his eyes and held his foot out for inspection. "Still kinda hurts though."

"The pain should disappear completely soon."

"Thanks," Potter mumbled.

"Now," Severus loomed over the boy and sneered, "Are you really so stupid that you would come walking about down here with no shoes on?"

Potter leaned back and avoided his gaze. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking..."

"That much is obvious, Potter. You _never_ think, do you? When anywhere near a potions lab, you are to wear shoes. Is that clear?"

"I will next time, I promise..."

"You'd better."

"Sorry," the boy repeated, clasping his hands together.

Severus picked up the boy's foot again. "How does it feel now? Can you walk on it?"

"I think so."

Severus reached out and swung him off the table with ease, setting him carefully on the floor. Potter took a few tentative steps and nodded in satisfaction.

"Feels fine, sir."

"Good." Severus turned his back to the boy and screwed the lid back on the jar of salve. "Now run upstairs, put some shoes on, and don't come back down here."

Potter came around in front of him and looked closely at the jar of salve. "That stuff works good."

"Of course it does." Severus scoffed, putting the jar away.

"Are you going to make more soon?"

"Most likely."

"Can I help?"

"Go. Up. Stairs," Severus ground out, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "I do not want you down here."

"But, Professor, I just –"

"For the love of god, Potter, go upstairs!" Severus slammed a hand down upon the table.

The boy shrank back instantly, fear flashing across his face, briefly, before it was gone.

"Sorry." He began to inch around the table, never taking his eyes off of Severus.

But before Potter had taken three paces, light steps could be heard coming down the stairs to the cellar. Moments later, Lily appeared in the door, a tired expression written across her face.

"Is everything okay down here?" she asked, her face searching her son's. "Harry?"

Potter didn't move from his spot behind the table. He just stood there silently, biting down on his lip.

"Severus?" she prompted.

"I was trying to work. He interrupted my counting and I lost my temper." Severus felt dread settle in his stomach. "I apologise."

Lily frowned, then turned back to her son. "Harry, why don't you run upstairs and go play in the garden for awhile?"

"Do I have to?"

"I think you'd better."

"Okay." Potter edged around the table, carefully steering clear of Severus. He hurried past his mother and up the stairs.

When the back door could be heard closing, Lily stepped closer to the table and gave Severus a piercing look. "He was afraid of you."

"I shouted at him." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"He was _afraid_ of you. Why?"

"I lost my temper."

She stared silently, and then asked, "Did you hit him?"

"What? No!" Severus felt his heart speed up in his chest. "Lily, I swear to you I never laid a hand on him. I wouldn't do that. Ever. How can you even think that?"

"I had to ask," she admitted.

"Did you really?"

"Yes," Lily huffed, tossing her hands into the air. She looked away, taking in the renovated room. "I'm worried about him, Severus. I could tell when I got to my sister's house that she and Vernon had never been good to him. He's so tiny and none of his clothes fit him right. They're all either too big or too small and just... now I'm thinking that they might have hurt him."

"Have you asked him?"

Lily clutched at the neckline of her brightly coloured blouse. "I haven't wanted to. He's still warming up to me and I don't want to scare him away. I want him to trust me, and I want him to trust you too. I don't want anybody to hurt him ever again."

Feeling weak-kneed, Severus pulled two straight back chairs away from the table, into the middle of the room.

He dropped down into one and asked heatedly, "Well, do you believe me?"

"Do I have any other choice?" She rubbed her face and dropped unceremoniously into the other chair. "If you don't want us here, just tell me, okay?"

"I do want you here." Severus leaned forward.

She slouched further and twisted her mouth into a frown. "But do you want Harry here?"

He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say in response. "I – Lily, don't be this way."

"What way?" Anger flashed across her face. "I'm asking you a simple question. Just answer me. You told me the first night that Harry reminded you of James."

"He does. He looks like him. I can't help that."

"Right, he looks like James. But he's _not_ James and he's not me either. He's his own person. I thought if I didn't push it, that you'd come around. But apparently I was wrong." Lily pushed herself up straight as her body tensed. "You're his teacher. You saw him every day for a whole school year and you're still acting like this?"

"Acting like what?"

"I heard you call him 'Potter' and don't think I haven't heard it before over the last few days."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Well, that's his name, isn't it? It's how I address all my students."

She ground her teeth together and huffed, "Oh, don't get smart with me! That's my name too, and you don't call me that. You're not in school, Severus. You can call him Harry. Whenever you think I won't hear, you just call him 'Potter' in that same, scathing, disgusted tone you always addressed James in."

Feeling like the energy had been drained from him, Severus gave a disheartened shrug. "That's true. You're right."

"What?" Lily's mouth fell open, but she quickly recovered, adding, "Well, of course I am."

She _was_ right. He wasn't just saying that to please her. Admitting he was wrong was something he rarely did, or said to anybody. He knew, logically, that he was wrong in the way he treated the boy. He'd known that since the beginning. But emotionally was where it all got confused. He couldn't make sense of it in his own head, let alone voice it. How was he supposed to explain this properly to Lily?

"I am... wrong. I should call him Harry," he said, searching for the right words. "In my head, I know that your son isn't James. But somehow that fails to matter at a certain point. When he first came to Hogwarts last year, I had already vowed to myself that I would protect him... for you. But I found that I couldn't protect him from myself."

He took a breath and met her eyes to find that she was watching him intently.

"I wanted to honour you by protecting your son," Severus continued, wishing he could have put off this particular conversation until later that evening. "But at the same time I found myself wanting to hurt James Potter in the same way he hurt me. I waited for years for the day Harry Potter would start school, both looking forward to the moment and dreading it. When he arrived though, it seemed that he was James' clone and I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hurt James Potter and I was foolishly taking my anger out on a child who didn't deserve it at all. It was only when I got closer, and I saw his eyes, that I was reminded of you. So I purposefully distanced myself from him. He reminded me too much of what I had lost, due to my own stupid choices."

She shook her head and a strand of her fell across her face. "Severus, I don't understand."

"But you will," he insisted, as he willed himself not to vomit at the thought of his confession that evening. "Later this evening, I'll explain more and you'll understand."

Lily cocked her head and asked softly, "Why are you so afraid?"

"I'm not." Severus lifted his chin.

"Yes, you are. What could possibly be such a big secret?" Crossing her arms over chest, she leaned back. "I _know_ you were a Death Eater."

Severus waved a hand. "Everybody knows that."

"So what's the big deal then?"

Severus said nothing. The conversation was becoming redundant and tiresome.

"You're scaring me, you know." She broke eye contact with him to gaze at the floor. "I thought I knew you."

"I told you that you didn't. Not anymore. I've made some terrible choices, Lily. Ones other people have had to pay for every day since. You don't know me at all."

"But I want to. You were my best friend for years. Things came between us, we both said things we didn't mean. I just wish we hadn't let them go so far. Now look at us."

"You shouldn't want anything to do with me," he spat out, unable to hide his frustration any longer. "We keep having this same discussion and I know you don't understand, but you will. It's wrong that we should even be sitting in this room together now. You have no idea how wrong it is."

"That's only because you keep dancing around the subject, refusing to actually say anything important. But until you do, I want to try to do what we can to be friends again. I'm living in your house, but there's something between us. Some huge problem, judging by what you've said so far." She reached out and put a hand lightly upon one of his.

Severus stared at the slender, white fingers against the rough calluses of his own hand.

"I don't know what we can do about that," she went on. "But for now we can start with some smaller things."

"Like what?" She was touching him. How could he not agree with her?

"Like Harry. Say it, Severus. It's just a name."

He swallowed and forced out through dry lips, "Harry."

"Good." The corners of her mouth turned up and she leaned slightly forward. "Now say it again, but don't think of James, okay?"

Damn. He couldn't think about James Potter at that moment even if he wanted to.

"Harry," he repeated, in a near whisper this time.

"See, was that so hard?" She squeezed his hand.

"You have no idea."

Lily's voice dropped to match his hushed tone. "You know, you're not nearly as dark and horrid as you like people to think you are."

His gaze flew up to meet hers. "How would you know?"

"Intuition. Trust me."

"I do."

"Good." Lily gave his hand another squeeze. "I don't regret coming here."

"But you will." He tried to smile at her, but couldn't bring himself to.

She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the slamming of the back door above them and a child's voice calling out.

They both glanced up towards the ceiling and then Severus pulled his hand reluctantly out of Lily's grasp.

"You'd better go check on Harry... before he comes back down here." Severus pushed himself to his feet and gestured towards the table behind them. "I'm going to finish this and I'll be up in a bit."

Lily gave him a small wave, and then turned to the stairs. "I'm coming, Harry!"

Severus watched her disappear up the stairwell. As soon as she was out of sight, he sighed and leaned heavily back against the potions table. Tonight was going to be far worse than he had originally expected.

* * *

It was nearly six o'clock and Severus hoped he didn't look as nauseated as he felt. He paced back and forth in the sitting room, only vaguely aware of the light conversation that Lily was having with her son in the next room. A part of him demanded that he man up and take what he deserved. Another part of him simply continued to urge that he should be upstairs, close to the toilet in case he really should have to vomit. The smell of macaroni cheese wafted into the room and he put a quivering hand on top of his stomach. Thank goodness this wasn't a meeting that included food.

"Severus!" Lily called out.

He took a deep breath and strode purposefully into the room. Lily was standing at the counter spooning big, yellow globs of macaroni into three mismatched plastic bowls. She sat one down in front of Harry, who was already sitting in his usual spot. She put down a blue bowl at Severus' usual place. Only then did she seem to realize he had come into the room.

"Macaroni's done," she said over her shoulder, pouring some milk into an empty glass for Harry.

Severus grimaced, not sure he could stomach anything at the moment. "I'm not very hungry this evening."

"Suit yourself, but you really should eat a little something." She shook her head, sitting down in her chair. "At least sit down. Your pacing is driving me crazy."

He dropped down into his chair, grateful she didn't push the matter, and poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.

"Professor McGonagall will be here shortly." Lily pulled a bowl to herself and looked hesitantly at her son. "You'll be good, won't you?"

His fork halfway to his mouth, Harry assured her, "I'll be fine, Mum."

Severus wanted to scoff out loud at the frail promise, but he stopped himself. Lily might have asked for his help, but he wasn't about to take over, even if she wanted him to. She was blindly feeling her way around this new territory of parenthood and he had no wish to discourage her.

Fifteen short minutes later, Severus had finished off three glasses of water just to keep himself from getting up and wearing a hole in the kitchen floor. Now he could add his own personal ocean to the odd feeling in his stomach. He was wiping off the table when a tawny barn owl landed on the windowsill outside. Lily turned from where she was washing dishes with Harry.

"Oh, it's a school owl! I haven't seen one in so long!"

Severus opened the window and quickly took the letter from the owl. Seeing that it was addressed to the parents of Harry James Potter, he sat it down on the counter.

"It looks like your end of year results," he said to Harry, who was standing on the tips of his toes over the sink.

The boy spun around, his eyes wide, and as he pulled his arms out of the sink, water splashed into a puddle over the floor.

"Oh, for the love of –" Severus stopped himself, catching the look Lily sent his way.

Harry looked up at him, biting his lip again. "Sorry?"

Severus pointed his wand at the puddle and the water disappeared.

"Do try to be more careful," he said firmly, picking up the letter again. "Now then, this letter is for your mother, so-"

"Would you mind reading it out loud, Severus?" Lily interrupted him, holding up her hands over the sink. She was covered in suds up to her elbows. "I'm a bit... um, indisposed at the moment."

Severus smirked. "Certainly."

He broke the seal and pulled a crisp sheet of parchment from the envelope and began to read the results out load.

"Overall," Severus began in a clear voice, "Astronomy, A; Charms, A; Defense, E..."

He raised an eyebrow and let his voice drift off. Lowering the letter, he gave Harry what he knew to be one of his most dangerous looks, as he felt himself slip all too easily into teaching mode.

"Mr. Potter, do you care to explain how you seem to have managed an O in your Defence practical, yet a P in theory? As a matter of fact," he glanced back down at the letter, "I am beginning to see a trend here."

Lily looked perplexed and reached for a towel. "What's the matter? Here, let me see."

"In most subjects, his grades in theoretical work are all significantly lower than in the practical ones." He handed the grade report to Lily. "Except for History of Magic. That grade is quite abominable in both."

Lily took the parchment and he watched how, as she read over it, she chewed almost compulsively on her bottom lip. A moment later she looked back up at her son, who continued to stand by the sink, seemingly frozen.

"Harry, are you having trouble in school?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"No," the boy said, casting his gaze downward.

"Then what seems to the problem here?" Severus tried to keep his voice level. Loath as he would have been to admit it even a week ago, he knew the child was smart. Something else was going on here and the fact that he didn't know what it was infuriated him.

"I-" Harry opened his mouth, but was cut off by the sound of the Floo flaring to life.

Severus gave one last look towards the boy, who was still standing there, hands dripping water on the floor again.

"We will discuss this later." He cast a second drying charm at the puddle and then strode from the room.


	9. Gather Up The Past

******Disclaimer:** I do not own "Harry Potter" or any of the characters from it. I am not making any money from the writing of this story.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Gather Up The Past**

Lily had gone through the Floo first and had already taken a seat by the desk. Severus took the seat beside her and she gave him a thin smile, but he turned his head away, focusing instead on the antique chess set on the desk.

From his own desk chair, Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You are still able to use the Floo, Lily. I find that most curious."

Severus stole a glance at the woman beside him. She was smiling widely now and her eyes were bright. Dumbledore had insisted that she attempt to use the Floo with assurances that she would be fine. After all, even a squib child could use the Floo. As promised, she had been fine, but Severus wondered how sure Dumbledore really had been.

"I never even considered using the Floo," Lily said, giving a slight shake of the head. "I can't Apparate. I can't even perform the simplest of spells. Whatever gave you the idea that I could Floo?"

Dumbledore stared intently across the desk at Lily. "Your magic cannot be gone. Not completely."

"It's impossible for it to all be gone, isn't it?" she said. "Severus said that it was."

"I would never say anything is impossible." Dumbledore sat back and stroked his long beard. "But Merlin knows, wizards and even some Muggles have been trying for years to discover just how to fully control the magic in a person. As far as I know – and I pride myself in knowing quite a lot – no one has ever fully succeeded."

"But there have been reports of depleting a person's magical energy," Severus pointed out. "The depletion never lasted long, but some were able to do it."

The study had been quite popular in the late seventies and early eighties. Every week the _Prophet _would have a new, interesting little blurb from those young and old, all eager to be credited with such an amazing discovery. But no discovery significant enough had ever been reported and the general public eventually lost interest in favour of Quidditch, politics, and the trials of accused Death Eaters.

"You honestly believe somebody deliberately removed my magic?" Lily leaned back in her chair and stared at Severus. "Really?"

"Someone imprisoned you in a house for ten years, Lily. I wouldn't put it past them to harm you."

"I _wasn't _harmed."

Severus scoffed. "Of course not. Your magic just coincidentally disappeared."

Lily turned away and gazed out the window. "But I'd remember if someone did something so horrible to me, don't you think?"

"With all due respect, my dear, I am not certain that you would," said Dumbledore, his calm voice a sharp contrast to Severus' and Lily's. "Tampering with a person's magical core is quite a traumatizing experience. Those who survive rarely do recall the event."

But the survivors who did remember told horrifying tales that, even just listening to, made your skin crawl. Those weren't stories the _Prophet _told. They weren't for the faint of heart and most certainly not for the general public.

But Death Eaters heard things. They saw things.

Lily turned away from the window and Severus met her resigned eyes. So many times he'd drilled into his Slytherins that life was anything but fair. He'd never wished more than he did now that it was, if only for Lily's sake.

"We'll figure it out, won't we?" she asked, her hand pressed against her stomach.

Severus swallowed. What was he supposed to say? Yes? Absolutely? Don't worry about a thing? He considered himself a realist, and wasn't accustomed to handing out such reassurances. Giving someone a false sense of hope was pointless. Why bother?

And yet he couldn't force himself to speak the truth either.

He released a deep breath, and then said, "We'll get to the bottom of this."

That was the only promise he could rightfully make, that they would make sense of everything. Eventually all the pieces would come together. But he wouldn't stoop so low as to promise that everything would be fixed in the end.

"Yeah. Of course." Lily turned to look down at the fingernail she was picking at.

Lily wasn't stupid, but she had always been a dreamer. Severus hoped she would keep her optimism in check.

"It may take some time, but try not to worry," said Dumbledore. He cleared his throat. "I assume you are aware of the other reasons we are here tonight?'

Lily gave Severus a sidelong look, and then gave a half shrug to Dumbledore. "Somewhat. I think I'm missing some information."

The old wizard nodded. "You have been gone from us a very long time, and much has happened in your absence. Severus and I thought it would be best if he were to inform you of the happenings in the last decade, rather than you having to stumble around blindly for information you have not picked up from the _Prophet_. Would you not agree?"

She let out a deep breath and leaned heavily against the back of the chair. "That would be wonderful."

"I regret that there will be quite a bit of unpleasantness involved in it all," Dumbledore added. Gone was the twinkle in his eyes. "Lily?"

Lily crossed one leg over the other and lifted her head to meet the headmaster's eyes.

"You will not like what you will hear," Dumbledore said.

"I understand."

"No, no, I am not certain that you do. But we shall see." Dumbledore turned to Severus and, with a grim twist of the mouth, said, "Would you like to begin?"

_Not particularl_y, was what Severus wanted to say. Instead he clenched his jaw shut. Dumbledore could be so infuriating. The man was a damn politician. He could talk for what seemed like forever and by the time he finished, you would realize you didn't understand half of what he told you. Then he would sit there with a pleasant smile on his worn face while you scrambled for a response. Severus hated the old man's games and he despised being used in them. Even knowing that his current circumstances were his own fault didn't help to ease the frustration Severus felt.

He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and despite the many glasses of water he drank earlier, Severus' mouth felt dry as parchment. He rubbed the back of his neck and forced himself to sit up straighter. The sooner he started this, the sooner it would be over.

"I want you to know I'm not making any excuses for the things I've done and said over the years," he began, his words flowing slower than they normally did. He hoped no one noticed. "My childhood might not have been the most pleasant, but that doesn't make my choices, the things I did and said... it doesn't make them right. I'm quite aware of that."

With a lift of the chin, Lily frowned. "I just want to know what's going on."

"Right." Severus cleared his throat. "Growing up, I learned to believe wizards were superior to all others, but the more time I spent at Hogwarts, the more confused I became about all the ideas and beliefs I had set up for myself as a child. I remained in such a confused state until the summer after my fourth year."

Lily closed her eyes. "That was the year you came home to find your mother gone, wasn't it? You were...just so angry after that. All the time."

Severus waved his hand impatiently. "Yes, yes. I said though that isn't an excuse for my actions. That day by the lake... it wasn't intentional. I didn't mean to say that word, that terrible name. It just slipped out."

Lily opened her mouth to speak, but Severus cut her off.

"Wait. Let me finish, please." She nodded and he continued, "But it should never have even slipped out. It shouldn't have even been a part of my vocabulary. But it was, because no matter what you told me, or what my heart told me, I continued to be a part of a lie. I was accepted by many of my fellow Slytherins as an accomplished student of the Dark Arts and I'm ashamed now to say that I was quite proud of that. I was good at something that other people praised me for. They talked about this Dark Lord. You-Know-Who, they said, knew just how terrible and worthless those of Muggle blood were. Purebloods were the truly worthy ones."

"But you're a Half-Blood," Lily pointed out. "I never understood that."

"It makes no sense in hindsight," Severus agreed, rubbing a hand over the knee of his trousers. "But in reality, the Dark Lord had to recruit Half-Bloods. There simply weren't enough Pure Bloods around anymore to support his cause, so it became those strictly of direct Muggle descent that he preyed on."

"If you knew this, then why stay involved in all of it?" Lily asked. Her face looked haunted and Severus forced himself to look away.

"I wanted power. For once in my life, I wanted to be the strong one, the one that wasn't going to be hurt. How foolish I was." He shook his head. "You had every single right to walk away from me that night in our fifth year. You couldn't change me. I was too blind and stubborn, although I didn't realize it then. I'm sure you remember that I tried to get you to change your mind multiple times that summer."

She nodded, a little stiffly. "Of course I do. But I couldn't do it. You were going down a creepy path. I wasn't willing to follow you there and you weren't willing to give it all up."

"I should have." Severus drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "If I had been thinking more clearly, I would have seen that there was no comparison between what I was being offered and what I already had. I thought I could have both and when it became clear to me that I couldn't, that I could only choose one, it seemed that it was too late for you and I and our childhood friendship. You had moved on and I could only let you be happy. So I went and followed the only other person I thought would accept me."

An ominous feeling settled in the room. Severus sat there in silence, quite willing to put off this next point in the conversation for as long as he possibly could. Up until this point, the memories and confessions and conversation had been a walk in the park.

Lily gave Dumbledore a sidelong look. "This is it, isn't it? This is the part of the story that Severus has been beating himself up over all week?"

"I am afraid so, my dear. We can only delay things for so long." Dumbledore scratched at the side of his nose.

Severus took a deep breath and stole one last glance at Lily, and then he began the last of his story.

He told her of how he had been befriended by Lucius Malfoy and introduced to Voldemort, who told Severus everything he wanted to hear. By following the Dark Lord, Severus finally thought he'd found the purpose in life that he'd yearned for.

"Within days I had been branded with the Dark Mark," he finished.

Lily bit down on her lip. "I think I always knew that. I mean, I didn't have any proof and I often asked James if he thought you had. He never would say, but I think he knew too," she said and met Severus' eye apprehensively. "May I see it?"

"The Mark?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I think I need to."

"Very well." Severus unbuttoned the left cuff of his shirt and began to roll the sleeve up, revealing a strong arm littered with dark hair, a few scars, and a faded tattoo. "But only for you because I'm not proud of this. In fact, I prefer to try and forget it's there, although that is rather difficult."

With his dark green sleeve rolled up past his elbow, Severus held his left arm out to Lily in resignation. He couldn't bear to watch her as she took it in, so he simply stared at the mark on his arm symbolizing the mistakes of an angry, selfish boy. Having once seemed like a sign of importance, the brand now only served as a constant reminder of death and destruction to the man he had become.

She took his arm in her hands and pulled it closer; getting a clearer look at the ugly tattoo he had allowed himself to be branded with.

"It's faded now," he explained softly. "With the Dark Lord gone, it's not as stark as it once was. But it is still quite visible, which is why I prefer to keep it covered by sleeves, even in the summertime."

It felt quite odd to have it exposed like it was now. He was so used to hiding it, he had to fight the urge to snatch his arm back and cover it up once again. Finally, after a few unnerving minutes, Lily released it and he hastened to roll his sleeve back down.

"I guess I can't say I'm actually surprised," she commented, still looking at his arm.

Severus buttoned his cuff and nodded. "It was the worst mistake I've made in my life. I would do almost anything to be able to change it."

He paused and pulled out his watch. Eight-thirty. Just as he had predicted, this was turning out to be a long night and it wasn't even over yet. The worst was still to come.

"At first, it was rather slow going," Severus said, putting away his watch and continuing the story. Every word felt like a noose around his neck, growing tighter and tighter. Soon, he was certain, he would not be able to breathe, let alone speak. "I started at the bottom, but the Dark Lord could see that I was more than willing to work hard and do whatever was asked of me. It's sickening to think about. I disgust myself to this day for stooping to such a level. But even so, when I was given orders to spy on Dumbledore at the Hog's Head in spring of '79, I jumped at the chance. The Dark Lord knew that Hogwarts was looking for a new professor and he wanted to know who it would be. However I found out more than I'd bargained for."

At this, Dumbledore gave Severus a sympathetic smile and took over that part of the story.

"I was in need of a new Divination teacher," Dumbledore offered up. "Our old professor was planning to retire at the end of term and I needed replacement for him by September. So I set out to interview Sybil Trelawney. I thought I was humouring her. You know I never did put much faith in the practice of Seers and Divination, but she surprised me when she actually gave a real prophecy that night. Severus heard it."

Lily's eyes widened. "Really?"

"I heard part of it," Severus was quick to interject. "I was listening outside the door when Trelawney sounded like she went into some sort of trance. 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...' she said, and you can imagine the shock I felt at that. 'Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...'. There was more to it, but unfortunately I was so caught up in what I was hearing, that I didn't hear the barkeeper approach me from behind. I tried to convince him that I was simply lost, but he didn't buy it and I was thrown out."

Lily sat back with a shaky breath and tugged at a strand of hair. "The power to vanquish the Dark Lord? That couldn't mean…"

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore offered a sad smile. "Sybil's prophecy was quite accurate."

"The Dark Lord was enraged to know what I'd overheard, but very pleased with me for bringing the information to him." Severus rubbed at his left arm. "I was immediately made one of his closest confidants, one he was certain he could trust. As such, I was one of the first to know when he had decided that Harry Potter was whom Trelawney's prophecy spoke of... and that he meant to go after the child."

He forced himself to look Lily in the eye. She was not giving off much of a reaction at all at this point. She was apparently waiting for him to continue before she said anything. He wished she would just yell at him, curse him, and walk out the door and never look back.

_Damn. _He'd let her strangle him or bury him alive at this point. Anything she wanted. But instead she sat there in silence waiting on him to continue, which was, perhaps, even more painful.

"Immediately I went to him and begged him to keep you safe, Lily. Well, technically, I had to ask him that he spare you... for me. Because I, er, said I wanted to have my own way with you," Severus said, feeling himself grow hot under the collar at this admission. He quickly added, "You have to understand, if I simply told him that I loved you, that you were my friend, he would have killed us both."

"I understand," she said quite coolly. It reminded him a bit unnervingly of when she had walked away from him that afternoon after O.W.L.S. in Fifth Year. "You can continue."

"Yes," he said, feeling awkward. "The Dark Lord told me that he'd grant my request, that I could consider it my reward. But I was desperate and went to confess everything to Dumbledore. I was selfish. In my stress and panic, all I asked was that Dumbledore protect you and hide you some place safe. I didn't even think of Harry or James' safety until Dumbledore prompted such. I'm ashamed of that, Lily. I know that my apology means nothing in the great scheme of things, but you have it. I swear to God that I didn't want anything to happen to your husband and child. But they weren't on the top of my priority list either. You were."

He stopped then, not knowing where to go next with the story. He looked at Dumbledore and was both annoyed and relieved when the Headmaster so easily picked up where he'd stopped.

"I was quite disgusted with Severus when he came to me," Dumbledore began freely. "But I agreed to do as he asked in exchange for his service to me. He accepted and he became my spy. I am sure you remember, my dear, how I came to you and James."

Lily nodded. "How could I ever forget?"

"In the end," Severus took up the story once again, "the Dark Lord was gone and Harry survived. James was killed and well, we thought you had been lost too."

Lily sat up straighter and her brows furrowed. "All right. I have a question. What happened that night with Voldemort and Harry?"

"Ah." Dumbledore smiled. "But that is where things get interesting. When you jumped in front of Harry to protect him, you laid down your life for your son and he was protected by an ancient magic. So when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at your son, it rebounded off him and came back to hit Voldemort himself."

"But I didn't lay down my life for Harry. Not really."

"This is the conclusion I have come to," Dumbledore sat back with an air of confidence. "That was your intention, my dear. You fully intended to die so that Harry might live. The fact that you somehow were transported to a strange house in London is quite another mystery. I have yet to get to the bottom of that one."

Lily shook her head. "And after that night?"

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, then said, "I had Harry promptly moved to live with your sister and a very complicated spell was performed. Because of your sacrifice, for as long as your son could call his aunt's home his, then he would be protected from Voldemort and his followers."

"I am not sending him back there," Lily said, her chin jutting out.

Severus nodded his head in agreement. Petunia Dursley was a complete idiot.

"No, of course not," said Dumbledore, so agreeably Severus found it unnerving. "Now that you are with us again, I cannot very well ask that the boy continues to stay there. But there are still many in our world who wish to finish what Lord Voldemort set out to do. You and Harry must both be careful."

Lily rubbed her eyes. "I understand."

"Not quite everything." Dumbledore leaned forward, his face grave. "What I am going to say next must stay between the three of us."

Severus and Lily both agreed, although Severus already knew what was coming next. He had discussed this with Dumbledore, in private, just a few weeks earlier. But Lily couldn't possibly have any idea and Severus found himself wishing he could protect her from the terrible news that was coming.

"Voldemort is on the rise." Dumbledore got straight to the point. "The night he came to your house eleven years ago, he was not so much killed, but delayed. I am still not quite sure that even I understand what's happened, even less now than before. But his soul lived on and he is trying to come back. He nearly succeeded this past school year, but was stopped. How long it may be before he is back in full form, I cannot even begin to guess, but you need to be aware of this. When he does eventually return, you and Harry both will be in grave danger."

Severus was relieved that Dumbledore hadn't mentioned Harry's run-in with Quirrell. Lily looked exhausted and Severus wasn't sure how much more information she could handle at this point. The news of the Dark Lord's attempted return might have been too much already.

Lily fell into a stunned silence that Severus would have been quite willing to let go on forever. He was tired and yet at the same time, he felt considerably better than he had just a few hours before. Telling Lily the truth had lifted a weight off his shoulders that had been there for so many years, he'd grown used to it. But the guilt remained and he imagined it always would.

Dumbledore glanced at the large clock on his wall. "Look at the time. It is quite late. I believe this is quite enough for one night. What do you say we adjourn this little meeting of ours?"

"I'm more than ready, Headmaster." Severus cleared his throat. "I understand, of course, Lily, if you don't wish to return to Spinner's End with me."

She surprised him by standing from her chair readily.

"Harry is probably already asleep. I'll go back for tonight, but only because I don't want to leave him there," she said, giving him a careful look, "I'm not sure what my plans will be after that."

"That sounds like a wise choice," Dumbledore agreed, walking his two guests to the fireplace and taking down a jar of Floo powder. "I know you were probably given more information than you could quite take in, Lily, but I'm afraid a lot has happened in your absence."

Lily gave a sardonic laugh and rubbed a hand across her face. "What about my magic, Professor?"

"Ah, yes." Dumbledore put a wrinkled hand on Lily's shoulder. "We should remedy that situation as quickly as possible. Would you be agreeable to coming back tomorrow afternoon, perhaps at one o'clock?"

She glanced over at Severus. "I may be back well before that."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You are welcome at any time."

"Great." Lily gave Dumbledore slight smile. "Thank you for everything."

"You are quite welcome, my dear. Have a good night. I will see you tomorrow."

When Lily had gone through the Floo, Severus turned to Dumbledore.

"You may wish to have the elves prepare some rooms for Lily and the boy," he told the older man. "She will be leaving Baske tomorrow for good. I'm certain of it."

Dumbledore simply smiled and held out the box of Floo powder. "I would not be."

* * *

**Coming soon...  
Chapter Ten**


	10. The Deal

**Chapter Ten: The Deal**

That same evening, Harry found that he really enjoyed playing Old Maid with McGonagall and that his Head of House could be good company if she wasn't talking sternly or taking points.

When he fell asleep, curled up comfortably in bed, he dreamed that the Jack of Spades had come and stolen the Queen of Hearts away from the sleeping King of Diamonds. Then the Jack and the Queen lived happily ever after, faraway in a rickety house of cards.

Before long, Harry's dream turned into something dark and distorted. He was running up one of Hogwarts' many moving staircases. But instead of feeling warm and inviting, the castle felt dark, cold, and ominous.

He could hear footsteps somewhere behind him and Harry's heart started beating more rapidly. He twisted his neck to look behind him as he ran, but it was like he'd come from a long dark tunnel. He couldn't see anything. But the footsteps were loud and they were getting closer.

Harry looked ahead again and tried to run faster. The portraits on the walls merely watched him, looking quite bored and not nearly as concerned as Harry thought they should be.

His foot caught in his long school robes and he stumbled. Before he could even try to right himself, he could feel himself tumbling and then falling...

He landed with an "oomph!" on the floor beside his bed, his blanket tangled about his legs. He took a deep breath and blinked his eye slowly, taking in the dark bedroom.

He wasn't being chased. It had only been a dream.

Pushing himself to his feet, Harry put on his glasses and squinted through the darkness to see the form of his mother sleeping in the bed against the other wall.

It was still dark outside the window, but quite a few lights could be seen in the other houses of Baske. Giving a thought to the chill in the air, Harry wrapped his blanket around his shoulders before heading downstairs.

The steep staircase was dark, but he could see a light coming from underneath the door at the bottom. Harry grasped the cold metal doorknob and pushed it open ever so lightly. Just enough to peek through without being seen.

Snape was leaning against the sink, staring blankly out the window, with a cup of coffee clutched in his hands.

He hadn't changed his clothes from the day before and while his shirt was still tucked neatly into his black trousers, the top few buttons had been undone, giving the man a relaxed appearance. But Snape's usual stiff and straight posture had vanished and now he stood with slumped shoulders.

Harry opened the door and stepped off the last step.

Snape looked at him, briefly, before turning to gaze back out the window. There were bags under the dark eyes. "You're up early, Potter."

"I'm always up early," Harry said, shrugging.

"Yes. At six usually. It is barely five."

Harry went to the upper cupboard by the sink and, pushing himself onto his toes, he pulled out a drinking glass. "I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep."

Snape pushed the cupboard door shut over Harry's head. "Sit down and quit dragging that quilt over the floor. Where are your slippers?"

"Don't have none." Harry dropped into his usual chair and held out his mouse trapped toes so he could see them again. Snape's bruise salve had worked pretty well. His toes only hurt now when he flexed them really fast, back and forth.

"Any. You don't have _any_," Snape corrected him. He was beginning to sound more like the Snape that Harry was used to. "_Accio_ socks!"

A pair of Harry's socks came flying down the stairs and Snape caught them out of the air with his wand hand. Then he walked over to the table and dropped them in Harry's lap.

"Put these on. This house can be cool in the morning, even during the summer months."

Harry pulled the socks on. "You got back late last night?"

"We did," said Snape, taking a sip of his coffee.

"What did you talk about?"

A large owl landed outside the window with a newspaper. Snape opened the window, took the paper, and came to sit at the table.

"Well?" asked Harry.

"Well what, Potter?"

"What did you and my mum talk about last night with Professor Dumbledore?"

"That is none of your concern." Snape held the paper in front of his face and turned the page.

Harry traced his finger through the condensation forming the outside of his glass. "I was just wondering..."

"This may come as a surprise to you, but not everything is your business."

"I don't think that..."

Snape took another sip of his coffee instead of responding.

The sky outside was slowly turning from black to grey. Harry stifled a yawn. Even though the sun was coming up, he considered going back to his warm bed. But then his stomach growled loudly.

Snape looked up at him.

"Sorry." Harry's face burned and he got up to drop some bread in the toaster and pour himself some juice.

He leaned back against the counter, but Snape said, "Come sit down. There is something I wish to discuss with you."

Harry frowned.

"Come sit and listen." Snape reiterated, pointing at Harry's chair. "This is important."

Harry returned to his seat, but only because he wanted to. He lifted his glass to his mouth and watched Snape warily over the top of it.

"You are going to be leaving my house sooner than expected." Snape leaned across the table towards Harry. "This morning, most likely."

Harry's eyes widened. They were leaving? Maybe Dumbledore had finally realized what a terrible idea it was to have he and his mum live with Snape all summer long. He tried to ignore the fact that his professor was actually acting almost human this morning. Well, come to think of it, the man had been acting a bit strangely ever since he'd shouted at Harry in the cellar the afternoon before. But still, Harry decided, if they were going to leave Snape's house, he was all for it.

"Is that what you had a meeting for last night? Did you talk to a realtor?" Harry drank the last of his juice and put the empty glass down. "Were you trying to find a place for me and my mum to live?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Not exactly. What we discussed is none of your concern. If your mother wishes to leave, that is her prerogative and you will abide by your her wishes. Do as she asks. Don't make life harder on her than it has to be."

"I wouldn't!" Who did Snape think he was talking to? Harry would never do anything to upset his mother. Ever.

"Oh, but you will." Snape ran his fingers against the edges of the newspaper. "Every boy wants to please his mother, but it is inevitable that at some point, no matter what you might think, you will make things hard on her."

Harry couldn't imagine doing that to his mother. But then he remembered his mum's face when she'd seen his school report the day before. She hadn't looked very happy then.

He slumped in his chair.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are we going to behave, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded glumly.

"See that you do," said Snape, getting up.

And Harry vowed to himself that he would. It didn't matter what Snape said. Snape was wrong. Without Snape around, Harry was sure that he and his mum would get on just fine.

* * *

The first few days at Hogwarts went by okay. Great, actually. Harry had used the Floo for the very first time and had been all but spit out, ash covered, into a very nice set of tower rooms arranged by Dumbledore. There, Harry and his mum could have meals together every day without Snape. They laughed and joked, also without Snape. By Wednesday evening, Harry had even talked her into letting him stay up late so they could play Old Maid together, which also only happened because Snape wasn't there.

Every morning, his mum went through the Floo to meet with Dumbledore for a few hours and while Harry was never invited, he knew exactly what they were talking about because she shared these things with him. Unlike Snape who didn't like to tell Harry anything at all.

Their first night at Hogwarts together, she had sat Harry down and explained to him that she couldn't do any magic. She could still use magical things like using the Floo and talk to portraits, but she couldn't cast any spells on her own. She didn't know why and Dumbledore didn't either, but they were working on it.

They were also working on freeing a man from prison. His dad had a best friend named Sirius who, after the night that Voldemort came, had been accused of murdering a bunch of Muggles and betraying Lily and James. Everyone thought Sirius had been the Secret Keeper (which Harry understood because his mum explained the term to him), but he hadn't been.

She had told Dumbledore that Sirius was innocent and that she knew who the real murderer was. Harry didn't know his name though. His mum didn't like to talk about him. It made her too angry.

So every morning, his mum talked to Dumbledore and they planned how they would free Sirius and what they could do about her magic. While they were gone, Harry would sit alone and sort chocolate frog cards or play with his gobstones set.

But by late Thursday afternoon, all the things that had at first seemed great were starting to become normal and mundane.

While they were eating lunch, his mum brought up the subject of his school report and told him they would be working on his summer schoolwork that afternoon.

"You need to study, Harry," she told him when he frowned.

"I don't." He stabbed at a rolling pea with his fork.

"Your end of term report worries me. Professor McGonagall suggested that you get an early start on your work. And I can help you."

"No, you can't."

She wiped her fingers on a serviette and stood up, gathering her plate. "Why not?"

"It's magical stuff, Mum, and you..." He didn't finish his sentence. He hadn't intended to be rude, but judging by her face, he'd just hurt her feelings. "Sorry."

He hung his head and pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.

She took his plate without saying anything. Her eyes didn't meet Harry's as she wiped a dish towel over the smooth wooden table top. When she was finished, she left the room, letting the door to the sitting room swing shut behind her.

Harry dropped his head into his hands and tried to forget the hurt look that had appeared on his mother's face. He'd only meant that ...well, he wasn't sure exactly what he had meant. He just didn't want to have to do his work.

He knew his mother was sensitive about her lack of magic. She tried to act like she didn't care, always smiling tightly when she talked about it. But Harry knew. He knew how she really felt because he could imagine how he would feel if his magic disappeared. His magic made him special. It made him different than Dudley and all the kids who had picked on him in primary school. If he lost that, he would just be Harry again. Even though he wasn't allowed to perform magic outside of school, he had the ability and that's what mattered.

Harry's head shot up. He was in school now. He was living at Hogwarts where there were wide open spaces and a Quidditch pitch. He thought of his Nimbus 2000, safely put away in his trunk. A strong urge came over him and he leapt from his chair and dashed into the sitting room.

His mum was sitting on the sofa, Harry's school bag at her feet and his books and essays strewn about her. She looked up at him. "I've done all of this work before, Harry. I went to this school for seven years and just because I can't do any magic, it doesn't mean I don't understand the theory behind it."

Harry didn't say anything. What could he say? Should he apologize again?

The hurt look was gone from her face and had been replaced with a hard look of determination. She held up his report card. "Theory seems to be what you're having trouble with and summer work is nothing but theory. You and I are going to work on this together until you understand it."

Harry felt his stomach clench. "Do we have to do it now?"

She put Harry's essays back in his bag and gave him a shrewd look. "When do you want to do it?"

_Never._

"After dinner?" he suggested, his thoughts still on the Quidditch pitch. "I ...I wanted to go flying this afternoon," he added softly.

His mum frowned. "Harry..."

"I know it's summer, but we're at Hogwarts, so that's all right, isn't it?" He stepped closer. "I just want to fly so much."

"No one is supposed to know we're here," she reminded him. "You can't go traipsing through the castle and flying so that everyone can see you."

Harry's heart sank. He had forgotten about that little detail. It was why his mum used the Floo to go talk to Dumbledore, and why Harry was always so bored. There weren't supposed to be many people at Hogwarts during the summer, but just the same, no one was supposed to see them.

"I forgot," he mumbled, angry at himself for setting himself up for disappointment.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's okay. I know you must be going stir-crazy in here."

He was. Gazing out the windows at the beautiful summer sunshine only made things worse. He wished his mum would pull the drapes shut. He hated being taunted like this. He was bored of being stuck inside and he didn't even want to think about how many weeks there were until school started. Then a thought stuck him.

"What are you going to do when school starts?" he asked, going to sit beside her. "We can't hide forever."

She paused flipping through the pages of his Charms book. "Professor Dumbledore and I have talked about that. We're trying to figure out my magic problem first, before everyone finds out about me. Besides," she added, rubbing at her neck. "I don't think I'm ready to talk to so many people just yet."

She was nervous. Harry had picked up on that, even with the few people he had seen her interact with. He supposed that he would feel like that too if Aunt Petunia had shut him up in his cupboard for years without letting him out.

"You're right. Sooner or later, people are going to have to know. And I'm going to need to find a job eventually..." she mused.

Harry wasn't sure if she was talking to him or not. He put a hand on her arm. "Mum, we've still got all of your and Dad's money in your vault. I only bought school books ...well, and some robes too and my wand. Also a little candy. But we still have lots left."

His mum looked at him and laughed. She carded her fingers through his hair once. "You're sweet, Harry, but I want to keep that money for your schooling."

"But there's tons of gold in there!"

"There used to be more. Your dad inherited a good deal of gold from his parents when they died, but we supported ourselves and Sirius with that for years. There's enough there now to cover your schooling, but not much extra. We could probably live off what's left for about a year. After that..."

Harry frowned. He didn't like the idea of his mum getting a job somewhere. The way things were now, with them spending the day together, that's how he wanted things to stay.

She held up his Charms book. "Let's go start on your homework."

"Mum, please not now," he pleaded.

"Harry..."

"I'll do it, I promise. Just not now, okay?

His mum seemed to waver between letting him go and putting her foot down. Finally, she sighed and put the book back in his bag. "Fine, but after dinner we really need to start on this. I don't want you to fall behind."

Harry jumped up from the sofa. "Thanks, Mum! You're the best."

She got a funny look on her face, like she was trying not to laugh. She lifted her chin. "You're quite persuasive, aren't you?"

* * *

Thursday evening found Severus stalking the dimly lit fifth floor corridors of Hogwarts. During the summer, the castle was absent of its usual life and chatter, which should have made it easier to locate small, errant boys.

Just half an hour ago, he had been poring over ancient magical theory books in his sitting room when the Floo had roared to life and Lily's stricken face appeared in it.

"I can't find Harry," she'd told him breathlessly.

She said she had gone to take a quick shower, leaving Harry on the sofa with his homework. When she returned, the boy was missing. She had only called Severus after searching her quarters and an unsuccessful attempt to call Dumbledore.

"You're the only one who can help," she had apologised, as if she expected him to be angry or resentful. "I can't leave our flat or I'd go find him myself."

He couldn't be bothered with such feelings. Lily was her own person and, as far as Severus was concerned, she could do as she pleased. He hadn't been surprised when she had packed up her few possessions and left Sunday morning and he had made no attempt to contact her since.

But he had wondered how she was faring. He'd been tempted multiple times to fire-call Dumbledore to check up on her, but each time he had resisted. He had come close, even tossing in a handful of Floo powder one time.

He'd ended up wasting a handful of powder.

Severus refused to go chasing after Lily like some forlorn dog.

That wasn't to say, however, that he wasn't bothered. Life seemed intent on continuing to play cruel jokes on him by bringing Lily in and out of his life on a whim. Every time he began to get used to the way things were, they would change.

This time it was Harry's fault. Severus was already mentally preparing the tongue lashing he was going to give the boy for his idiocy when he found him.

Lily was still in her quarters and Severus imagined her panic was growing by the minute. She had lost her son once. He couldn't let it happen again.

Severus was alone in his search. Very few people stayed at Hogwarts year-round. Trelawney was alone in her tower. Filch was certainly slinking along the castle somewhere with his mangy cat, but Severus had no intention of enlisting anyone's help.

Hagrid would actually be a tremendous help, but then the entire wizarding world would hear about it and no one needed to know Harry Potter was at Hogwarts over the summer. It would bring far too many questions.

Severus pushed aside the dusty draperies hanging over windows and kicked open vacant classroom doors as he went. Every once and a while he called out Harry's name in a tone that was not meant to be ignored. Either the brat was even more trouble than Severus had originally thought or he wasn't within hearing distance.

Just when he was reluctantly considering an amplifying charm on his voice, Peeves soared from further down the corridor to stop in front of him.

"Ooooh, look! It's Snivelly Snape!"

Severus scowled. He didn't have the time to deal with such nonsense. He ignored the poltergeist and continued on down the hall.

Peeves followed him, blowing raspberries behind in his head.

"Out of my way, Peeves," Severus commanded, brandishing his wand.

"Snakey Snivelly is looking for wee Potty…" sang Peeves loudly. "Won't find him in the castle!"

Severus stopped and turned around. He lowered his wand. "I won't, will I?""

Peeves gave Severus a rude gesture and snickered.

"Where is Harry Potter, Peeves? Tell me."

"Went out with his broom!" Peeves cackled, zooming down the corridor away from Severus. "And now he's doomed!"

Severus saw red. Damn that boy.

By the time he reached the school grounds, he had calmed himself only marginally. The sun had gone down and a full moon wasn't due for two more weeks. It took Severus' eyes a few moments to become accustomed to the darkness.

"_Lumos_!"

At first glance he didn't see anything. But after another more careful search through the air, he caught a flash of something over the Quidditch pitch. A leg. Then a flash of a trainer. The bristles of a broom. Then two trainers.

The foolish boy was thirty feet in the air and evidently - somehow - had made himself invisible; a feat not usually attainable by a first year and Severus grew immediately suspicious. He hurried across the grounds.

"Potter!" he shouted into the air once he'd reached the pitch.

The feet in the air stopped, but the boy made no move to come down.

"Harry James Potter! Come down here at once!"

The feet began moving again, but this time slower and gradually closer to the ground, finally coming to a rest directly in front of Severus. A hand slipped into sight, tugging away silvery material along with it until Harry was completely visible in front of him. Dressed in baggy jeans and a faded t-shirt, the boy looked every bit the troublesome miscreant he was.

"Potter," Severus growled, tucking away his wand lest he be tempted to use it. "You are in serious trouble."

The corners of the boy's mouth turned downward into a pout. "How'd you find me?"

"You were not hidden quite as well as you thought." He held out his hand. "Give me that cloak and I will consider letting you live."

Harry hesitated. "But it was my dad's."

"And now it is mine. You are clearly not mature enough to be privileged with such a thing. Now hand it here. The broom too."

The boy's green eyes flashed with anger. "You can't do that!"

"As a teacher on school grounds, I think you will find that I most certainly can." Severus snatched away the broom and cloak. "You were foolish."

Harry hung his head. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have. It's just-"

"Silence," Severus hissed, grabbing Harry by the arm. "If I was a patient man, and if I thought you might have a slightly valid excuse for being out here, I would give you a chance to explain. But since neither one is true, you are going to be quiet and listen to me all the way back to the castle." He bent down to speak in the boy's ear. "There you can explain all you want to your mother, who you worried _needlessly_."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and stared down at his feet. "I'm sorry."

"Save it." Severus grasped the boy's ear tightly in his fingers and started back towards the castle. "This stunt was one of the more stupid ones I've seen you pull. You are supposed to be hiding, which means you should be out of sight and not flying about on a blasted broom!"

Through the castle doors they went and began the trek up the staircase.

"If the wrong people were to see you at the school right now, uncomfortable questions would be raised. And," Severus added, tugging the silent boy over a missing step, "quite frankly, neither the Headmaster nor I possess the time to deal with such things. In case it slipped your notice, your mother is not dead and her magical powers are non-existent. While you were off playing and drawing attention to yourself, we have been busy attempting to address these issues."

They reached the fifth floor and Severus paused at the top of the stairs. He turned to face Harry, but did not loosen his grip on the boy's ear. "Are you really that oblivious to the importance of all this?"

Harry reached up to his ear, then dropped his hand and rubbed his palm against his jeans. "I know it's important. Mum told me about her magic and about Sirius too."

Severus froze. "Sirius Black?"

"He was my dad's best friend," the boy explained, shifting the weight on his feet. "Mum is trying to get him out of prison. She says he's innocent. Can you let go of my ear now?"

"No." He pulled the boy forward again as he strode down the corridor to Lily's quarters.

What the hell was Lily thinking? Sirius Black had gone to Azkaban for betrayal and mass murder. And if Lily didn't believe that, then what other information did she know?

Severus quickened his pace and listened as Harry's steps hurried behind. He stopped outside the door to Lily's rooms.

"Do you remember what you and I discussed the morning you left?" Severus asked, his voice low and controlled.

Harry started to nod, but stopped with a sideways glance towards the grip on his ear. "Yes."

"Yes, _sir_."

"Sorry, sir."

"I seem to recall you vehemently promising me that you wouldn't make things difficult on your mother. And yet here we are." Severus stooped to Harry's eye level and added in a scathing tone, "Just what do you have to say for yourself?"

The boy stood there with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes, looking incredibly small and remaining silent.

Severus straightened back up, finally releasing Harry's ear. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Harry glanced up at him, rubbing his pink ear. "Is she angry?"

"She's worried," said Severus, pulling open the door. He gave Harry a shove into the sitting room and called out, "Lily, I found him."

Lily rushed in through the kitchen door, her long hair dishevelled around her face. Her chocolate coloured blouse was misbuttoned and wrinkled, leaving Severus to guess she'd thrown it on in a hurry after discovering her son missing. She pulled Harry into a tight embrace.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, pressing a hand against the back of his head. "You scared me, Harry."

Harry mumbled something incoherently into his mother's chest.

"Thanks for finding him, Severus." Lily's eyes flitted over to the broom still in Severus' hand. She pulled Harry back and glanced down at him. "Did you go out flying? Was he flying?"

Severus cocked an eyebrow and pulled the invisibility cloak from his pocket. "He was flying over the Quidditch pitch with this."

Lily's mouth fell open. "Harry! You know you aren't supposed to leave our rooms! And where did you get that cloak? That's your dad's cloak!"

"Dumbledore gave it to me at Christmas," said Harry, stepping out of his mother's arms. He reached for the cloak. "No one could see me so I didn't think it would matter."

Lily stiffened.

"No one could see you?" Severus sneered, holding the cloak out of reach. "I saw you."

"Didn't I tell you earlier this afternoon you couldn't go out?" asked Lily, crossing her arms.

Harry's eyes darted briefly over to meet Lily's. "Yeah."

"Doesn't anything I say matter?" She threw a hand out, and then pressed it against her chest. "What did you even ask me for?"

Harry's gaze dropped back down to the floor.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Answer your mother."

"I was just so tired of being inside and I didn't think anybody would notice me out in the dark with my cloak. I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"Clearly," snapped Severus. "You never think. Everything is not all about you and what you want."

"You were supposed to be doing your homework. You promised me you would do it tonight," Lily reminded him. She released a pent-up breath. "You lied to me. I didn't expect that from you."

"I didn't!" Harry's head shot back up. "I will do it!"

Severus watched this exchange with ever rising interest. Lily, for the first time he'd seen, was fully stepping into her parental role. He had watched since they returned how her emotions had turned gradually from concern to hurt to aggravation. It seemed she had finally been pushed too far.

She had gone from a pushover to a brick wall in a span of three minutes.

"It's too late now." Lily gestured to the wall clock. "I thought I could trust you."

"You can!"

Lily ran her fingers through her hair and swallowed. "I don't know what to do with you, Harry. And that stupid cloak! I can't believe Dumbledore was irresponsible enough to give you that."

"I can," added Severus dryly.

Lily rounded on him, snatching the cloak away. "Thanks for finding him, but I think I've got this."

Severus cocked an eyebrow. "By all means, don't let me stand in your way."

She glared at him.

He glared right back.

He could see it in the way her posture straightened and how she was sucking air in through her teeth. Her worry and frustration, whether from the last hour or the last week, was finally reaching its peak.

Severus didn't know whether he should leave and let her calm down or if he should stay and have finally have it out. They had never discussed the secrets revealed in Dumbledore's office. Lily had left the next morning and the reasons why were not spoken of. They both knew what they were.

And they could have gone on with their lives, avoiding each other and the obvious elephant in the room forever. Severus had fully intended to. The fact that they were now staring one another down in silent contempt was Harry's fault. It would have never happened otherwise.

"Are you guys going to have a row?" asked Harry timidly from the sidelines.

Severus did not take his eyes off of Lily. "Go to your room, Harry," he commanded, his voice clipped.

"But..."

"Go to your room," Lily insisted. "Right now."

The boy left, his footsteps quickly followed by the sound of a closing door down the hall.

Severus let out a short, sardonic laugh. "I don't even know why we are doing this."

"What?" Lily rubbed her face and shook her head. "We can't ignore this forever."

"Can't we? That was my intention."

"Of course it was! Because that's what you do," she huffed, throwing her hands in the air. "You ignore things you don't like and run from anybody that might actually make you feel something!"

Anger rushed into his chest, making his heart pound. "I feel plenty of things, Lily. Do not presume to tell me how I feel!"

"Oh? Then what do you feel, Severus?" She stepped closer, breathing deeply. "Is it irritation? Contempt? Are you angry? Because that's all you ever seem to feel."

How did he _feel_? He knew he didn't want to be arguing with Lily. He wanted to be near and listen to her, but not like this. This wasn't what he wanted and he didn't _like _how it felt. How had it come to this?

"I do feel angry," admitted Severus. He cleared his throat. "I'm angry at us for arguing and I'm angry at myself for being the cause it."

For a moment, Lily said nothing. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. Then, in a softer tone, she said, "You could have just told me, you know. Why did you wait so long?"

Severus looked away. He didn't have a good enough answer for that.

"Funny thing is I don't know what bothers me most about all of this. Whether it's what you told me or how long you waited to do it. You should have told the very first night, god damn it!"

Severus continued to say nothing. As a double agent, he had become adept at explaining himself and at making up answers to things he knew nothing about. For someone who did not enjoy socializing, Severus was quite the talker. He could talk himself out of anything most of the time. The exception seemed to be when Lily demanded answers of him. At this moment, he was completely speechless.

'I even asked you that first night," she continued, her voice rising heatedly once more. "I ask you what was wrong and you wouldn't tell me. 'Later,' you said. I asked you the next day and, again, you said nothing. Just like now. You just stand there and you don't _say _anything!"

Severus closed his eyes. "What would you have me do?"

"I want you to fix this!"

"If I could go back and change things, I would, believe me! And I know apologies mean nothing, but I am sorry I ever heard any of that damn prophecy."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't care about that. If it hadn't been you at that door, it would have been somebody else. I'm angry because you waited so long to tell me. You lied to me, Severus. I can't stand liars."

"Don't you understand?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I couldn't it alone. I'm weak. I was afraid that if I tried to tell you everything that I wouldn't do it right and you wouldn't understand the magnitude of the terrible things I did. You know I'm not that bold."

"I don't want you to be bold." Her voice softened again and she gave him a pained smile. "I just want you to be honest."

"Are you trying to say you left because I wasn't immediately honest with you?" He scoffed. "You know that's not true."

"No, I left because I was in shock and I needed time away to think about everything. But now, everything has become a disaster. At least at Spinners' End we were free. Here, Harry is cooped up inside all day, every day. It's putting him in a foul mood and," she bit down on her bottom lip, "I'm afraid it's made me moody too. Look how I talked to him a few minutes ago."

"Lily, you acted like a parent," Severus snorted. "That boy needs to learn respect for his elders and especially for you. You did the right thing."

"I suppose I should punish him?"

"Disobedience is usually followed by discipline, yes."

She looked about the small flat. "I think he's already being punished here."

"You can always come back, you know." Severus cleared his throat. "I don't wish to impose myself on you if you don't want me around, but if you want to, you can."

Her eyebrows shot up. "I can?"

"The offer is open." He shrugged and looked away. "But only if you want to."

She scratched at her arm. "Okay. But if I _did_ come back, I want us to promise that we would be completely honest with each other. No more lies, okay?"

Severus masked his amusement under the pretence of considering what she'd said. Lily was bargaining. It wasn't very subtle; it was Gryffindor style bargaining. Usually he found Gryffindor bargaining skills lacking and somewhat annoying; Lily made it endearing,

"Fine," he conceded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "And if you _wer_e to come back, you would have to start visiting with Irma Reed instead of me. I simply refuse to continue having useless, nostalgic conversations with that batty old woman any longer."

Lily smirked. "And you have to make an effort with Harry. He's only a kid. No more hostility between you two. That's _if_ I came back, of course."

"Of course," Severus agreed.

Then they said nothing, each of them thinking, waiting for the other one to make the first move. Severus considered Lily's "demands" to him. Honesty? That would take effort, but he could do that. He would do it. And he could be kinder to Harry, he supposed. He had already started really. And being kind did not mean he couldn't be stern, which made the arrangement actually sound doable.

He didn't care about anybody visiting his pesky neighbour, but he might as well get something out of this.

Finally, he gave Lily a nod.

She laughed softly and held out a hand. "Deal, then?"

He hesitated for just a moment, and then grasped her warm, smaller hand in his own. "Deal."

They shook hands, just once, then released.

Lily laughed.

Severus wiped his suddenly sweaty hand against his trousers.

A door opened and Harry's hesitant voice called, "Can I come out now?"

Lily relented and when the boy reached the room, his cheeks were red, his shoulders were slumped forward and he looked defeated.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Mum," Harry said, his voice thick. He raised his head and behind the tear smudged glasses, his eyes were dry. "I shouldn't have gone out. I knew it was wrong."

Lily reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "It's all right, Harry."

"It's not all right," Severus interjected. "You are to listen to your mother when she tells you to do something."

Lily sent him an exasperated glance, and then turned back to her son. "What Severus is trying to say is, what you did was wrong, but I forgive you for it."

Harry smiled weakly, then said, "I'm probably still in trouble, right?"

"Most definitely," said Lily.

"Absolutely," added Severus. "You will be thoroughly punished, I assure you."

"I figured that," Harry sighed, and then added, "And I'm sorry for making you guys fight, Mum. It's all my fault."

"Oh no, Harry, that wasn't your fault." Lily rubbed a hand across the boy's hair and gave a quick tug on Severus' sleeve. "Sev, tell Harry it's not all his fault."

Severus looked at him. "It's not _all_ your fault."


	11. Asphodel

**Chapter Eleven: Asphodel**

Harry and Lily had moved back into Spinner's End by mid-morning the next day. It was beautiful and sunny outside. Once they were unpacked, Harry wasted no time asking to go outdoors.

"Absolutely not," said Snape. He stood in front of the back door, blocking the way, his arms crossed over his chest.

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

"You played outside last night. Don't you remember?" Snape pointed out.

Harry groaned. "I said I was sorry."

"What are we apologising for?" His mum came into the kitchen with a basket of dirty laundry.

"For last night. I want to go outside and he won't let me."

"Oh," she breathed, setting the basket on the table. "Well, Harry, if you've been told no, then I suppose you'd better do what you're told."

Harry glanced out the window. "But..."

Snape held up a hand. "Do not whine. I don't want to hear it. You purposely disobeyed your mother last night and you are going to be punished for it. You are grounded."

"Grounded?" Harry's mouth dropped open.

"You are going to spend the rest of the day upstairs in your room thinking about how your actions have consequences. Later, you can write an essay on it. Perhaps then you'll think before ignoring instructions next time."

"And it will be good for your school work, too. I spoke to Professor McGonagall," his mum added, her expression serious as she met Harry's eyes. "She's also concerned about your exam results and end of term grades."

Harry looked down and began to pick at the hem of his baggy shirt.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Do you have anything to say about that?"

"I don't really like school much," Harry mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

"That is no excuse for bad grades, Mr. Potter. Do you not study?"

"Yes!" His head shot up. "Hermione makes us study with her all the time."

His mum nodded. "That's very good. But your grades should reflect all that studying time."

"Don't you believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. But I'm concerned about you, and so is Severus."

"He doesn't care. He just wants to put me in detention."

"That is not true," Snape responded, his voice oddly calm. He cleared his throat. "Despite my treatment of you in school this year, I do care and I know you are quite bright."

Harry stiffened and dropped the hem of his shirt. "I told you, I'm fine. I just don't like school."

"Wrong answer." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Starting this evening, we are going to begin your homework assignments for the summer, and you will rework some of your more poorly done work from the past school year. I expect you to be up to speed by the end of summer. Now, go on. Upstairs."

Harry sighed and started toward the stairs.

His mum gave him a pat on the back as he passed by. "I'll call you when it's time to eat."

Harry stomped up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. The window was open, but now the fresh air only made him angry. He closed the window and flopped down on his bed.

They had only been back for a few hours and already Harry was getting shoved away. At least in their rooms at Hogwarts, Harry hadn't had to share his mother with Snape. He didn't get bossed around so much either.

Who did Snape think he was anyway, sending him to his room? He wasn't his dad. Harry made a face and pulled a pillow over his head. What a ridiculous thought.

His mum's laughter rang through the floorboards and Harry's stomach clenched. It wasn't fair. He should be down there with her. Why was she laughing? Snape wasn't even funny. He was horrible and mean.

Harry rolled over onto his side and hugged the pillow to himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Snape was ruining everything.

* * *

"Run upstairs and fetch your school bag."

Harry scowled at Snape, who was standing up from where he had crouched down to sweep a small of pile dust from the kitchen floor into a large, grey dustpan. Dinner was over and Harry had already been sent up to get ready for bed. He had been hoping maybe the man had forgotten about his plans to do school work.

"Do we have to do homework tonight?" He did nothing to hide the dismay in his voice.

"No whining, Harry," his mum said, not even turning around from the sink where she was rinsing the last few dishes. "Do as you're told, please."

Grumbling all the way, Harry went up to his room and pulled his school bag from inside his trunk where he had hoped it would stay for quite a few weeks. Taking as long as he could, he very slowly left the room and trudged back downstairs. He found Snape sitting at the table, several blank pieces of parchment and a quill beside him.

"Dawdling, are we?" he asked, as Harry left the last step.

Harry sent him another glare. "No."

"Mm hmm." Snape didn't sound at all like he believed Harry. He held his hand out for the school bag and Harry passed it over. Snape pulled out several of the essays and assignments. "Let's start with Herbology tonight, shall we?"

Harry just shrugged and watched as Snape read over his Herbology papers and the comments that Sprout had scribbled here and there.

"You seemed to do well enough when tested on the plants themselves, but your essays and written work are sorely lacking," said Snape a few minutes later.

"I told you already. The magic part is fun, but I don't like school work." Harry insisted, desperate to get his point across. Why couldn't anybody understand him?

"Very few people actually enjoy doing school work," his mum commented from across the room where she was drying her hands off. "But it's one of those necessary things in life that you just have to do. "

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, that's no fun."

"No, it isn't, and it becomes less fun as you get older. Now here, pay attention." Snape slid a heavily marked essay across the table towards him. It was followed by his "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi" textbook. "I want you to read that and tell me what you did wrong."

Harry took in all the comments and corrections that had been marked. "Everything, it looks like."

Snape rolled his eyes and put a long, potions stained finger on top of the first paragraph. "Start with the first paragraph. Figure it out."

Mimicking the professor's eye roll, Harry leaned forward in his chair so that he could focus on the paragraph in front of him. Trying to read people's handwriting, even his own, was worse than reading ordinary print. He recognized this particular essay. It was on asphodel. Hermione had helped him and he still had a difficult time with it. Instead of reading through the entire first paragraph, his eyes jumped to Sprout's large, curly scrawl.

He scowled. Something pertaining to some ridiculously complicated word that only meant a stupid plant. Harry had written it out in his essay by the looks of it... at least three times. He counted them easily because Sprout had circled each one in red. Figuring he had spelled the plant's name wrong, he pulled the textbook closer to him and scanned the page Snape had pointed him to.

"It's not that difficult." Snape sounded impatient. "I practically pointed it out to you already."

"I'm trying!" Harry groaned.

"Procrastinating will not be beneficial, I assure you."

Harry rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on the page. Snape was distracting him, stupid git. He clenched his teeth together and did his best to drown out any future comments the man might make. After a few more minutes of concentrated searching, his eyes landed upon the desired word in his textbook.

_Asphodel._

He pointed to it.

"And what seems to be the problem in your essay?" Snape sounded more and more like he was in a classroom.

"I spelled it wrong...?" Harry let his voice drift off, not quite sure.

"Are you asking me or telling me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry bit his lip. "Telling, sir."

His mum came to stand beside him and leaned over his shoulder to look at his old homework. She didn't give the textbook a single glance.

"Are we talking about asphodel?" She straightened back up. "Harry, how did you misspell that three times? It's right there in your book."

He shrugged at first, but then decided that a bad reason was better than no reason at all.

"I, er, copied off of Ron," he lied, but upon seeing both adults frown, he quickly added, "But only some! I can see now that it wasn't a good decision."

"No, it most certainly was not." Snape glared and handed him a clean piece of parchment. "While rather jumbled and incoherent in some places, the content of the essay itself is fine. But as Professor Sprout points out in her comments, your spelling and penmanship are severely lacking; something I will agree with. I thought you were only doing abysmally in Potions. I can see now how wrong I was. For your assignment this evening, you are to copy your essay down again, being careful to fix all misspelled words."

"What? The whole thing?" Harry felt horrified.

Snape pushed his chair back and stood up. "It's one short sheet of parchment. This will hardly over-tax you and shouldn't even take you long, if you work diligently. You should be finished in time for bed," he added with a smirk.

"Git," Harry mumbled, yanking his ink and quill out of his school bag.

"Harry!" His mum admonished him.

A little bit of shame flooded over him at his mother's disapproval. He apologized, though it was directed more towards her than it was Snape. The adults seemed satisfied enough and left Harry to his essay revising, letting him know they would be in the next room "should he need any assistance". Harry scoffed to himself and set to work.

After some time, Snape returned to the room. "Nearly finished?"

Harry looked up from his work. "Not really."

"Let's see it then." He went to Harry's side and held the parchment up, reading through it quickly.

Harry waited, eyes downcast and hands in his lap, for the scathing comments that he was sure would come. This second essay was a little better, he thought. Or at least his penmanship had improved. He couldn't say for certain that his spelling was any better, but he had at least tried.

After a few moments of silence, Snape put the essay back down on the table and Harry looked up at him. The man's face was unreadable.

"Continue," he said simply, then turned and left the room.

Harry slumped down in his seat. Any indication of what his professor's opinion was would have been good to hear. Even a dirty look and a "this is rubbish, Potter" would not have been unwelcome at that point. At least then Harry would have known for sure that he was doing terribly. Now, he could only rely on the instinct that came from his past experiences. His instinct, he decided as he dipped his quill in ink, was shouting that this second effort would hardly be better than his first. But there was nothing for it. Feeling a bit sick to his stomach and like a headache was coming on, he rubbed his eyes and continued.

He was just checking over his work when he heard Snape's footsteps come to the door once again.

"It is late."

"I'm done." Harry put his quill down and sat back. "Can I go now?"

"It's 'may I' and no, you may not. You will remain here while I review your essay."

Harry reluctantly held his parchment out to Snape, who sat back down at the table. This time he watched the man's face, fearing it would remain impassive and yet, at the same time, not wanting to know what Snape might be thinking. He didn't have to wait long though because Snape was a very quick reader. Snape put the parchment down, his expression frustrated.

"I'm sorry," Harry blurted out before Snape could even open his mouth. "I know it's still bad, but I really did try."

"Apparently you need to try harder then, Potter. This second attempt is hardly better than your first, although this one is at least more legible."

"I went slower. Less sloppy that way."

"Indeed. But it is still filled with numerous misspellings, oddities, and," he paused to give the essay a strange glance, "just general nonsense. Did you even read the comments and corrections that were left for you?"

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, rubbing at a loose thread on the cuff of his pyjama sleeve.

Snape's patience was wearing thin. "I am not certain you did. This was not a difficult task."

"Well, it wasn't easy either!"

"A primary school student could have accomplished what I asked of you. You can read and you can write, so it would logically follow that you are capable of copying down an essay over again and making the noted corrections."

Harry sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He refused to say anything to Snape when the man was so unfair. He felt very relieved at the sight of his mum entering the room, coming to rescue him.

"Severus, I can hear you from the sitting room."

"Quite a feat, that is," Snape sneered. "And the sitting room is so faraway, at that."

Harry felt anger rise up inside his stomach at the man's attitude toward his mother. He opened his mouth to say something in retort, but when she came up behind him and laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, he shut his mouth before a sound escaped.

"You're too impatient, Severus. What's the problem?" she asked.

"The boy can't seem to follow simple instructions. I asked him to copy his essay over and make the proper corrections." Snape held both of the essays out to her. "He could have at least made the spelling corrections."

His mum took the essays and dropped into the other chair beside Harry. After a few minutes she looked up.

"Harry, didn't you understand the instructions?"

"Yeah."

"Then why is everything still misspelled? Professor Sprout has the correct spellings written out for you."

Harry shrugged.

An odd look came over Snape's face, and he held out his hand. "Let me see your glasses."

Feeling apprehensive, Harry slipped the round frames off his face. The kitchen slipped into a blurry state and he held out his glasses to the blurry Snape figure. Giving up his glasses to another person made him feel vulnerable and he was already itching to get them back. Snape muttered something under his breath and gave the frames back to Harry. Relieved, Harry pushed them back onto his face and the kitchen instantly came into focus.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"I wished to see if your lenses were up to date. They are."

"Madam Pomfrey checked them for me when I got to Hogwarts last year. I can see fine out of my glasses now."

"Then you are not trying." Snape frowned.

"I am!"

"Severus, please." His mum turned to Harry, her voice patient. "What's going on then? We want to understand if there's a problem, so we can help you."

"Your grades are important." Snape sounded more under control. "It may not seem this way when one is merely a first year-"

"Almost second," Harry interrupted.

"Yes, almost second," continued Snape. "Nevertheless, at such a young age, your grades may seem of little importance. But that is not the case. They will affect you for a long time to come."

"I'm just not good at spelling," Harry tried to explain. "The letters get all confused in my head."

"That may be a passable excuse for your first attempt, but not so much for the second. Can you not simply copy the correct words onto your new draft?" asked Snape.

"I'm trying!" Harry tried not to sound like he was whining, but it was very difficult. "Look, Professor, I –"

"No, Mr. Potter, you look." Snape sounded exasperated. He slapped a clean sheet of parchment down on the table in front of Harry. With a quick wave of his wand, he had a list of Harry's misspelled words running neatly, and correctly, down the page. Next to the top word, he scrawled the word out in his own cramped handwriting. He looked at Harry. "You see? That is all I want you to do."

"You want me to copy the words? But that's for little primary school kids!" Harry felt very insulted by the suggestion. He was nearly twelve years old, after all, and had moved beyond such mundane school work. He gave his mum a pleading stare, but she shook her head.

"Do it correctly, Harry, and you won't have to do it again."

Seeing no other choice and feeling both adults' eyes on him, he picked up his quill again and began working. He was two words in when Snape interrupted him again. "No, stop. Are you even reading the words? How do you manage to make so many mistakes when the answer is right in front of you?"

"I don't know, okay?" Harry threw his quill down on the table and tried very hard not to shout. "I can't explain it. I just always get everything wrong. I'm stupid."

"Hey, listen to me." His mum nudged his chin. "You are not stupid and I don't ever want to hear you calling yourself that, do you understand?"

She released him, and he nodded. He ducked his head down to watch his lap for a few moments and when he looked up he found Snape watching him intently.

"_You_ think I'm stupid,"said Harry.

Snape shook his head. "I most certainly do not. But I am becoming increasingly certain that there is something going on with your schooling that you haven't told us yet."

"I'm not lying," Harry insisted.

"No, I don't think that you are." Snape frowned and stood up. He walked behind Harry and after a moment's hesitation, he rested a hand on top of the boy's messy hair. "That is enough for tonight, I believe. Leave your work here, Harry, and go to bed."

Without another word, the man strode from the room.


	12. Promises Kept

**Chapter Twelve: Promises Kept**

Severus studied the books on the shelves in front of him. The Baske Public Library was small, but it had collected a great amount of books since its establishment in 1914. So many, in fact, they had begun selling off many of their duplicates just to make room for newer books. The shelves were packed, but as far as patrons went, there never seemed to be many inside. It had been that way for as long as Severus could remember.

He'd first discovered the library as a small boy in 1966. After learning to read early on as a child, he soon became bored with his mother's limited supply of books at home. Most of what she had were textbooks from her days at Hogwarts, but as a child who was quite enthralled with the magical school, he had been eager to read through them. Soon his hunger for the imaginative stories he'd always loved led him to the small library, and it soon became his favourite location, only to be replaced by Hogwarts when he turned eleven.

The librarian, Mary Stone, had been in her late thirties at the time. She was an attractive woman, as far as looks went, but her disposition left a lot to be desired and most people saw her as harsh and abrasive. He remembered how she'd watch him wander through the aisles, always sure he was a delinquent child out to steal and ruin her books. But Severus had never defaced a book in his life, or at least one that wasn't his own. He had dozens of textbooks piled in his attic and office that had notes scribbled into their margins. However, library books he had always treated with care, especially since he knew that if he were to lose or ruin one, the bill would be sent to his mother, and when his father found out, the consequences would have been harsh.

Now, as an adult, Severus didn't spend nearly as much time in Muggle libraries as he had as a child. These days, he didn't read many fictional books, instead preferring to peruse a potions journal or something academic. On the occasions he wished to read something else, he just had to dig through his old trunk for the few, but well loved, books of his childhood. The only time he ever visited the little library now was when he wished to research something non-magical, something he couldn't find in Hogwarts' great collection of books.

Something like learning disabilities.

Severus didn't know much about such things, except that they existed. He didn't have any personal experience with them and had never known anybody who did. But after working with Harry the night before, and after thinking about the matter for hours afterwards, he found himself more than a little suspicious that they may have a significant role to play in the boy's struggles.

The library, with their vast collection, had dozens of books on the topic, but Severus didn't quite know what he was looking for. He'd been kneeling on the old, brown carpet for half an hour in front of the education section and had yet to choose a book. He would pull one out, read the inside flap, flip through a few pages, then shove it back onto the shelf.

As he skimmed the pages of a large and tedious book, he heard the quick footsteps of Mrs. Stone approach him from behind. He twisted around.

"Find what you're looking for, Severus?" The librarian stared down at him over her red rimmed bifocals. Her brown hair had long ago turned a dark grey and over the last twenty five years she had gone from stylish to frumpy, but her demeanour hadn't changed.

"I'm afraid not." Severus returned the heavy book to the shelf and stood up. "I need a book on learning disabilities – reading, actually."

The woman squinted at him, then began searching the shelves herself. Her long, aged fingers ran over various bindings. "I'm assuming it's a student of yours that's having problems?"

"That's correct," Severus said. "A boy... about twelve."

"Is the book for him, or is it for you?"

"For myself. I'm attempting to assist him in his school work."

Mrs. Stone pulled a thick, green paperback from the shelf, glanced at it, then held it out. "Try this. It's meant for teachers and parents to help their children. My nephew has a boy with reading issues, and I know he swears by this book."

"Thank you." Severus accepted the book.

She waved a hand and began heading back to the front counter. "If it isn't what you're looking for, come back tomorrow."

Severus followed the librarian to the counter and held the book out to her.

She took it, pulled the card from inside the front cover and wrote in his card number. But before she handed the book back to him, she said, "Severus, I was going through some of our older cards – you know, for books that haven't been returned – and you never returned the _BMA Guide to Adolescent Health_."

Severus shook his head. "Pardon?"

"You heard me. 1973. I don't know how I didn't discover it then, but I have the card right here." She tugged open a file cabinet and pulled out a card catalogue. After flipping through a few cards, she took out a yellowing one and slapped it down in front of him.

Severus pulled it closer and stared at it. Sure enough, the last time the book had been checked out was August of 1973, and there was his library number written in beside it. But why the book was missing was beyond him.

"I returned the book, Mrs. Stone." He shoved the card back across the desk.

"Impossible." She snatched the card back up and stuck it in the catalogue again. "It's not here. I looked on all the shelves where it might be, and it's not here. I want it back."

"Well, I certainly hope you find it." Severus picked up his book, and walked towards the doors.

"You better bring back that book, Severus Snape!" she called. "Both of them!"

As he let the door swing shut behind him, he didn't even need to turn around to know she was wagging her pen at him, just as she always had.

* * *

Upon returning home, Severus left his library book in the sitting room and entered the kitchen. He found Lily kneeling in front of Harry, who sat in a chair at the table. He had his right leg stuck straight out and his trousers rolled up.

Lily had her head bent over her son's knee, but looked up when Severus came through the doorway.

"Oh, hey." She smiled at him. "Find what you were looking for?"

He nodded and crossed his arms. "What did he get into this time?"

"He just tripped and scraped up his knee a bit. He'll be okay." She grabbed a damp flannel from the table and dabbed at the boy's knee.

Severus stepped closer so that he could see the wound better. Lily was right. It was a scrape. It would be sore, but nothing to worry over.

Harry was not at all fazed by the injury. "You should've seen it! I got blood everywhere."

"Oh, hush. You did not." Lily put the flannel down.

"Didn't you see it all over my jeans?"

"There was a little bit of blood, yes." She unwrapped a plastic bandage. "It was a bit hard to notice with the knee of your jeans all torn up."

The boy's smile faltered. "Sorry. I really didn't mean to, Mum."

She placed the bandage on his knee. "I know. Don't worry about it."

"Where were you running?" Severus asked.

"On the street. Mum said I could go exploring." Harry got up from his chair and tested out his injured knee. "Thanks. It feels fine now."

Lily pushed herself up and tousled her son's hair. "Just be careful out there next time, all right? I don't want to have to bandage you up every time you go out."

"If he wants to play out in the neighbourhood that's fine," Severus said. "But he needs to be careful. There's half the people living here than there used to be, however, I don't know who they are. They're likely harmless, but I cannot say for sure."

"If there's danger, I'll run." Harry straightened up from where he'd been unrolling the leg of his trousers. "That's how I tripped this time. I was running from a dog."

"A dog?" Lily's eyes widened.

The boy nodded. "It was a big brown hairy one covered in mud. He just came out of nowhere and I'm – well, I don't like dogs. I ran away before he could come too close, but then I tripped in the alley behind the house. I had to limp inside like a wounded soldier."

"Just be careful, Harry. He was probably friendly, but you never know." Lily brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "He might've just been hungry."

A tapping noise came from the window.

Harry looked up."What was that?"

"An owl." Severus went to the window. He took a letter from the bird, and it flew away. He looked down at the name on the envelope.

_L.E.P._

He held it out to Lily. "It's for you."

"I bet it's from Remus," she breathed, taking the letter and tearing it open. Her eyes scanned the contents. "He says he's happy to hear from me. He talked to Dumbledore, and he wants to see me as soon as possible."

"I hope he was more discreet than that." Severus raised an eyebrow.

Lily held the letter out. "It's very short."

Severus took it. It was not much more than a note.

_My dear friend,_

_It is good to hear from you. Your news, although wonderful, left me with uncertainties. I sought out an old, wise friend for confirmation. I would like to meet as soon as possible. Please let me know when a good time would be. _

_Best regards,_

_RJL_

Severus smirked. "So Gryffindors are capable of some ambiguity."

"I'm glad a house mate of mine could finally meet your Slytherin standards." Lily rolled her eyes and snatched the letter back.

"I never said that. Lupin has got quite a long way to go. He simply exceeded my very low expectations."

"So prejudiced, Severus." She crossed her arms. "What would you do if you had a child who was sorted into Gryffindor?"

"Suffer a heart attack, most likely."

"Oh, please." She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead glanced back down at the letter. "When can he come?"

"It doesn't matter. It isn't as if our social lives demand we consult a calendar. Although, your friend may want to." Severus smirked. He had never liked Remus Lupin, and had certainly never planned on allowing him into his home. However, for Lily, he would always concede. His voice took on a gentler tone. "This is your home for as long as you want it to be. You're welcome to have over anyone you wish."

She gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"Was this the friend you were telling me about? Will I get to meet him?" Harry peered at the letter.

Lily handed it to him. "I'm sure you will."

While Harry studied Lupin's letter, Severus picked up the used flannel and changed the subject. "I need to go across the street to fix a parrot's cage this afternoon."

Lily smirked. "Really? Are you helping parrots now?"

"I happen to be assisting an elderly neighbour. The woman has lived here since before I was born, and these days she seems to save all of her household repairs for me. She must make an entire list at the beginning of every summer."

"That's sweet. She probably likes your company."

Severus chose not to argue with her on the point, although he would have liked to point out that he was not sweet. Guilt-ridden, bitter, and handy, yes. But by no means was he sweet. It was easier to assist the woman than have her nag him all summer long.

"Can I come?" Harry rubbed the back of neck.

"No. It shouldn't take long." Severus pulled the cellar door open. "I already started the process a few days ago."

"Does it talk?"

"Not to me. Although, we are not very fond of one another."

Harry sighed. "I still want to come. I promise I won't be a bother. I just want to see the parrot."

Severus frowned.

Lily gave him an amused smile.

"Please?" The boy's voice was softer.

Severus released a breath and gave a reluctant nod. "Yes, yes, fine. You may come along, but if you misbehave even once, I'm sending you back home."

Harry's eyes widened. "Okay. I've gotta get my shoes. Wait for me!"

He turned and dashed up the stairs.

"I may regret this," Severus muttered.

Lily reached out and squeezed his hand. "No, you won't. If he gets in the way, send him home like you said, but I think he'll be fine." Her eyes twinkled as she let go of his hand. "Beside, you two could use some quality time together."

"What would you call last night's homework session?" He scoffed.

She laughed. "That wasn't quality time. That was a detention."

"Yes, for both of us, and to think, we get to do it all over again."

Lily's expression turned serious. "Did you find anything out at the library?"

Severus held out his hand and a small sack floated up through the open cellar door. "I haven't looked at the book yet, but I think I'm on the right track. It would explain why he's having so many problems with his school work."

"Are you going to tell him that?" Her eyes flickered upwards.

He frowned. "Not until I know how to help him."

"Thanks for doing this. Sometimes when I'm with Harry, I just feel lost... and scared." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know how to be a parent – not a proper one. I don't know what I'm doing."

"Well, neither do I." He shook his head.

"But you do," she insisted, her face earnest. "You deal with kids all the time. You may not be a parent, but you're a teacher. When Harry gives me those sad eyes, I just turn into a pile of mush and cave. You don't do that."

"You need to have more confidence in yourself." Severus began digging through the sack, looking for a specific tool. "Beside, every student I've ever had despises me."

"Harry doesn't."

He looked up. "Since when?"

She shrugged, giving him a small smile. "You haven't been as harsh with him. I think he's warming up to you, and I think you're warming up to him, too."

Severus shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. "Perhaps he's slightly less of a bother than I always thought he was."

Steps pounded on the stairs and Harry appeared in the doorway.

"Ready?" asked Severus.

"Yes, sir."

Severus nodded his head towards the sitting room, and Harry hurried through the door. Severus turned to Lily. "Would you like to come along as well?"

"Why don't you two go alone this time? It'll be good for you." She nudged him. "I'll go along next time. I need to write Remus back anyway."

With promises to return within the hour, he headed across the street with Harry in tow.

* * *

When Snape's neighbour answered the door, she was immediately interested in who Harry was and where he had come from.

"This is Harry. His mother is an old friend of mine, and they are visiting for the summer." Snape looked down. "Harry, this is Mrs. Reed."

Harry shook the old woman's bony hand.

"It's so nice to meet you, Harry. Please, come in, both of you." She stepped aside and invited them into her sitting room.

The first thing Harry noticed about Mrs. Reed's house was that while it looked a lot like Snape's, it smelled like a mixture of birds and mothballs. Snape's house smelled like old books.

In the corner of the room sat a large grey bird in a rusty gold cage. Harry smiled and took a hesitant step towards it.

"Harry wished to meet your bird," Snape explained.

The old woman's face lit up. "Oh, well, come over here, dear. I'll introduce you."

Harry stepped over to the bird and watched as Mrs. Reed unlatched the door on the cage. The bird stepped onto her arm, and she pulled him out. Out the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Snape take a step backwards.

"This is Patrick." Mrs. Reed rubbed the bird's head with her finger. "He's eighteen years old. My dear grandson got him for me in '79 after that horrible mill accident. Wasn't that nice?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry agreed, although he had no idea what she was talking about. He reached a hand out. "Can I pet him?"

"I wouldn't advise that," Snape murmured from the other side of the room.

Mrs. Reed scoffed. "Nonsense! Patrick loves children. Go ahead, Harry, dear. Be gentle."

Harry reached a cautious finger out and stroked the bird's head. Patrick began making a soft purring sound, much like Hedwig did when she was happy.

"He's very nice." Harry grinned.

Snape cleared his throat. "Perhaps while you are entertaining the bird, I could finish mending his cage. It would be far easier on everyone involved, I believe."

Mrs. Reed agreed and took Patrick with her into the kitchen to get some snacks for Harry.

Once she was out of earshot, Harry asked Snape, "What mill accident?"

Snape held up a hand. "Not now. I will tell you about it later."

Mrs. Reed returned and seated Harry in an old striped chair with a plate of biscuits. While Snape worked on the bird cage, she chattered on about how much her husband, George, would love Harry and how much Harry reminded her of her grandson, Ansel, when he had been that age. When Ansel came to visit, she said, Harry would have to come meet him. Harry promised to do that, which made the old woman look very pleased.

Snape made quick work of the bird cage and soon announced that they needed to return home for supper. Mrs. Reed was disappointed to see them go, but happy that Patrick's cage was mended and she wouldn't have to worry about him getting his head stuck any more.

"Thank you for your help, dear." She gave Snape a pat on the arm. "I will let George know you were here. He'll be sorry he missed you."

Snape nodded. "Perhaps next time."

She smiled. "Perhaps."

Once they were out on the street, Harry looked up at Snape. "What accident?"

"There used to be an old textile mill here. This neighbourhood was packed with all the people that worked there." Snape gestured down the street before going to their own door and ushering Harry inside. "In 1979, there was an explosion of some sort. Eleven people were killed and the mill never reopened."

They walked into the kitchen where Harry's mum was setting some plates on the table. She smiled at them. "You're just in time. How did it go?"

"The cage is fixed, and I got to pet Patrick." Harry dropped down into his chair at the table. "Mrs. Reed said she got him after a mill accident, and Professor Snape was telling me about it."

His mum's face darkened. "That's a sad story."

"Why did her grandson give her a parrot?" Harry watched his mum pour soup into his bowl.

"Because," said Snape, pulling his own chair out, "her husband was one of the workers killed."

Harry scrunched up his face. "George?"

"Yes." Snape picked up a spoon and turned to Harry. "Despite the fact that she speaks of George regularly, he is not actually living. No one has ever seen this grandson of hers either."

"Huh?" Harry sat back in his chair. "I thought they were real. She talked like they were real."

"They are real to her," Snape pointed out.

His mum sat down and patted his hand. "The truth isn't always what it seems. Sometimes the stories are wrong, aren't they?"


	13. Clues

**Chapter Thirteen: Clues**

Harry was sprawled out on the sitting room floor where he had set up his Wizard's chess set. Propping his chin up on his hands, he yawned as he studied the board in front of him.

The quiet companionship in the room contributed to the relaxing atmosphere. His mum was curled up in a chair with a book while Snape sat at his desk with his own stack of books piled high on the floor beside him. Snape's quill could occasionally scratched over the faint sounds of the radio in the background.

Harry moved a pawn when he noticed Snape pull out his pocket watch. The man glanced at it and then snapped it close with a finality that Harry knew all too well.

"Eight o'clock," Snape announced.

Harry groaned.

Snape turned to face him. "You've been yawning for the last half hour."

"But I just finished setting up my board." Harry sat up.

His mum lowered her book. "You don't have to put it away, Harry. You can play with it in the morning."

"Fifteen more minutes?"

"Maybe another night." She set her book aside and stood up. "Come on, I'll take you upstairs."

Harry frowned as he pushed the chess board underneath the coffee table. He got up and started following his mum from the room. When he got to the door, he stopped and looked back at Snape, but the man had already bent back over his book. Harry bit down on his lip and fingered the door frame.

"Harry!"

He hurried through the door and up the stairs to catch up. He found his mother upstairs, pulling back the covers on his bed.

"Teeth brushed?" she asked him.

"Yeah."

"Come on then." She patted the mattress. "I'll tuck you in."

Harry crawled into the bed, resting his head against the pillow. He glanced out the window at the starless night sky.

His mum pulled the blankets up over him, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. "You know, it's not so bad going to bed at eight. It means you get enough time to rest, and it gives your body plenty of energy for important things like learning and playing and growing."

Harry cocked his head. "Mum, how tall was my dad?"

"6'3"."

"Is that taller than Snape?"

"Maybe by a few inches, yes."

"Wow." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Do you think I'll be as tall as he was one day?"

She smiled. "You might be, but you've got to go to bed on time. It's good for you. I went to bed at eight until I was thirteen."

"Can I stay up later when I'm thirteen?"

His mum laughed. "We'll talk about it. Tonight it's time for bed though." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. Her red hair tickled his face. She stood up. "Go to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning."

Harry nodded and wiggled further under his blanket. He watched his mum cross the room and stop at the door, her hand on the light switch.

"Mum?" Harry sat up.

"Hmm?"

He swallowed. "Could you maybe leave the door open a little bit?"

She drew her brows together. "Of course, sweetheart."

Harry sighed and laid back down. "Thanks."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"G'night, Mum."

She switched the light off and pulled the door in most of the way, leaving Harry alone in the darkness.

* * *

Lily came back downstairs after a few minutes, and Severus raised his head as she walked in the room. She wore a puzzled look on her face.

"Everything all right?" He set his quill down.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure. Harry asked me to leave the door cracked."

"Is that odd?"

"Yeah. He's never asked me that before."

Severus leaned back in his chair. "How interesting."

Lily bent over his shoulder to peer at his notes. "Is this all about Harry?"

"Partially. Part of it is theory on magical cores." Severus handed her his notebook. "I know Dumbledore is working on your magic, but perhaps we'll get to to the bottom of it sooner between the two of us."

Lily scanned the contents of the pages. She looked back up at him, her eyes soft. "You've worked so hard."

He waved a hand. "It's all in the books already."

"But you're putting in so much time, Severus. I really appreciate it, and even if I never get my magic back, I -"

"You will." Severus took the notebook back.

She sighed. "You don't know that."

"I will do everything in my power to see that you do."

Lily put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not everything, you know."

Severus held her gaze for a few moments before tearing his eyes away and opening a new book.

"Sev."

He stared down at the open page without seeing the words. It was hard to focus when she was so close.

"Severus, I'm sorry."

Exhaling, he turned back to face her. "You're right. It's not everything, however, it's still very important. Please, let me do this for you... and for myself."

Lily squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you."

Severus nodded. "How are your plans to free Black coming along?" It was not his favourite subject, but it was important to Lily and anything that was important to her was a priority for him.

She padded to the sofa, picked up her book, and dropped down into her seat. "It's complicated. No one knows where Peter is, and Dumbledore refuses to let me go visit Sirius."

"In Azkaban? You can't be serious!" Severus would have laughed if the idea didn't frighten him so much.

"Sirius shouldn't even be there! There was nothing I could do before, but now that I can, I have to help him, even if it means going to him myself."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are out of your mind."

"What am I supposed to do then? Sit here and wait?" She let out a short laugh. "He's not going to come walking out of Azkaban on his own."

"What is it you plan on doing exactly? Going to Azkaban won't help him, and god knows it won't do anybody else a bit of good either. Have you ever been to Azkaban, Lily? It's a living nightmare."

She leaned her head against the back of the sofa. "I know. I'm just desperate, I guess."

Severus leaned forward. "I'm just trying to protect you. There are other ways to go about this, rather than throwing yourself into the thick of it."

"Right. We'll get him out. Dumbledore is working on it, and I know Remus will help, too."

"I'm certain he will."

Lily pulled her feet up and hugged her knees to her chest. She smiled sadly. "It wasn't Azkaban, but I know what it's like to be locked up."

Severus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he swallowed.

Of course she knew.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence until Lily went to bed.

Severus stayed up, forgoing sleep for research. He alternated between the Muggle book from the library and any book he thought might aid him in his attempt to discover what had happened to Lily's magic. He was quickly exhausting his vast collection of magical books, both dark and light.

Magic was what he and Lily had bonded over as children. There was sentiment involved, and Severus was feeling the loss over that connection. He refused to believe that there was nothing he could do about it. Any attempt to remove a witch or wizard's magical ability involved quite a bit of dark magic. The possibility made his skin crawl.

The research for Harry was more successful. The library book offered plenty of guidance, and the information available on learning disabilities amazed him. Severus had never known there were so many different varieties of issues, and he found himself devouring chapter after chapter. He sat at his desk in the sitting room until two in the morning, making notes and writing out a list of things he would check Harry's work for. By the time he went to bed, he knew he would only get a few hours of sleep, but he felt satisfied in the time he had spent.

He was up again before dawn. Severus stared into his first cup of coffee, the sliver of the moon still visible, as a large owl arrived at the window with the Saturday paper. It was accompanied by two smaller owls, each carrying a single letter.

One of the letters was from Lupin. Severus recognized the writing from previous letters. He tossed it on the counter for Lily to read later.

The other piece of mail was unfamiliar. Severus broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a short letter.

_To whom it may concern:_

_My name is Gideon Pyre, an Apothecarist in Haworth. I am responding to the ad you placed in the Daily Prophet looking for work in potion making. I happen to be looking for a skilled potions master to supply my growing apothecary with a great variety of potions. Occasional marketing and travel would also be involved._

_I would like to interview you on Monday, July 6__th__ at my shop on the High Street. __If that is acceptable, please let me know. _

_Sincerely,_

_G. Pyre_

Severus reread the letter. It was an interesting offer, well worth investigating at any rate. He wrote out a quick confirmation response and sent it back with the owl who had brought it.

He slid Pyre's letter in his shirt pocket and sat down at the table with his paper. Much of what the _Prophet_ published was rubbish, but if one knew how to read between the lines, there were hidden bits of useful information hiding all over the place. Knowledge was power, and Severus made a point to read the paper from front to back every day.

Opening the paper, an article caught his attention right away.

**LARGE ESTATE DISCOVERED IN RICHMOND  
**_A magical estate has been found in Richmond after a house elf reported itself to the Office of House-Elf Relocation on Tuesday, following the death of her owner, Hugh Forrest, on the 22__nd__ of June. The estate's mansion appears to be vacant, however, there are signs of recent habitation. An investigation in under way._

Severus studied the small picture enclosed in the article. The house stood grand and tall, surrounded by well kept gardens. If it weren't for the slight movement of the trees, it could have been mistaken for a Muggle photograph.

Severus cut the article out with a cutting charm. He set it aside to show Lily and returned to the paper.

* * *

_Quirrell gripped him by the arms, and he wouldn't let go._

_Harry struggled against the man's grasp, but no matter how hard he kicked or pulled, he couldn't get free._

_From the other side of Quirrell's head came a cold, maniacal laughter that made Harry freeze in place. "You foolish boy," the voice hissed. "Your death is in vain."_

_Pain crept up Harry's arms, and he was hit by the smell of burning flesh. He looked down. Flames raced up his arms, threatening to engulf his entire body. _

_The maniacal laughter rang in his ears._

_Harry yelled, smoke filling up his lungs. _

_He couldn't breathe... _

_He couldn't breathe..._

Harry shot up, covered in sweat. The door was shut and the room dark. His mother laid in her bed, oblivious to his pounding heart.

Harry dropped back against his pillow and stared up at the dark ceiling, refusing to close his eyes. He took a deep breath.

There was no point in this. He would never fall back asleep.

Kicking the blankets off his legs, Harry sat up and jammed his glasses onto his face. He crawled out of his bed and tiptoed out of the room.

Stepping into the hallway, Harry frowned. Light from the kitchen flooded the stairwell. Snape wouldn't be happy to see him out of bed. He was almost tempted to turn around and go back to his room, but the bright downstairs lights calmed his imagination much more than the darkness.

Steeling himself for Snape's glare, Harry crept down the stairs, counting the numbers of creaks each step made. When he peeked around the corner, Snape was seated at the table with his coffee and paper. He greeted Harry with a raised brow.

Harry glanced around the kitchen for a clock he knew wasn't there. "Is it morning already?"

"Barely." Snape took a sip of his coffee. "You are up early."

"I couldn't sleep any more." Harry walked to the sink and filled a glass with cool water. "You make me go to bed at eight. I can't sleep forever."

"Hmm." Snape leaned back in his chair, picking up the newspaper.

Harry drained his glass and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat down at the table.

Snape looked at him over the top of his paper. "Do you have trouble sleeping?"

"What? No."

"You appear tired for a boy who just slept for nine hours."

Harry looked down and traced a groove in the table with his finger.

"Potter."

"What?"

"You will let me know if you can't sleep."

"Yes, sir."

The newspaper rustled as it was set aside. Harry's head jerked up.

Snape stood up, clearing his throat. "Since it's nearly daylight, there seems to be little sense in sending you back to bed." He went to the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. "I thought perhaps with the extra time we might attempt a more elaborate breakfast rather than just toast."

Harry jumped from his chair. "Great! I like cooking. Can we make eggs?"

"We may." Snape came back to the table, a new cup of coffee in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. He set the milk down at Harry's place then took a seat. "Sit down and drink your milk. We are doing nothing until I finish this paper."

Harry returned to his seat and watched Snape over the top of his glass. His eyes would scan the pages, stop for a few moments, and then continue once again. Harry wondered what important things he might be reading.

He spotted a scrap cut out of the newspaper sitting to the side. He reached across the table and pulled it closer. It was a picture of a giant house with a short article running beneath it.

Harry didn't bother to try and read the whole article, but he did study the headline above the picture.

He looked up at Snape. "What's this house?"

"It's a mansion in Richmond," Snape murmured from behind his paper.

"No one knew about it?"

"Evidently not. Quiet now."

But the wheels had begun turning in Harry's head. "My mum was in Richmond."

Snape didn't respond.

"She said she was in a big house, almost all alone, and she said it was in Richmond." Harry peered closer at the picture. The more he studied it, the sadder the house looked. His head shot up. "This was my mum's house, wasn't it?"

Snape snapped his newspaper. "That was never your mother's _house. _It was her prison, in case you have forgotten."

"That's what I meant," Harry mumbled.

"You should learn to choose your words more carefully."

Harry slid the picture back across the table. "So was it?"

"Enough questions." Snape got up and strode over to the fridge. "Come over here so we can make those blasted eggs of yours."

Harry tumbled out of his chair. "Don't you like cooking?"

"No." Snape snatched the eggs and set them on the counter.

"But you teach Potions!" It seemed odd to Harry that someone who enjoyed brewing things in cauldrons all day wouldn't like to cook actual food, something that tasted better than any potion.

"Preparing a meal requires much less attention, intelligence, and quite frankly, imagination." Snape added milk, cheese, and bacon to the pile. "I find it very tedious."

Harry stared up at the man in astonishment. What might Snape know about imagination?


	14. The Cat Book

**Chapter Fourteen: The Cat Book**

Sunday passed by in a rainy haze. Harry's mum had received another letter from her friend, Remus, and they had decided he would visit Tuesday, meaning a deep cleaning of the house was in order.

His mum made one long list of everything that needed to be done, including a small list of chores for Harry. It was things like dusting and helping to clean the rugs. Harry didn't mind. He was stuck in the house anyway, and was used to doing housework.

After supper was over and the dishes had been washed, Snape had Harry retrieve his library books from upstairs.

Harry shuffled into the kitchen. He wasn't sure he could stand another homework session like the one he had the other night. Homework was tough enough but having Snape stand over him for two hours was unbearable. He'd gone to bed with a headache, and no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut letters in reds and blues and kept dancing around in his head, taunting him.

Snape insisted they work again, claiming they weren't going to be writing essays tonight. They were just going to be reading, but Harry hated reading almost as much as he hated writing.

Snape was waiting at the kitchen table. He had a piece of parchment next to him and from the looks of it the Robin Hood book from the old trunk.

"Did you bring your books?" Snape asked when Harry dropped down into a chair.

"Yes."

"Have you started one?"

"No." He hadn't even cracked them open.

"Pick one."

Harry dropped the two books onto the table. They weren't as thick as Robin Hood, but the slight smacking sound as they hit the table was menacing. He stared at them, wishing his mother would intervene, but she had excused herself to the sitting room, saying she didn't want to distract Harry.

"Well?" Snape urged.

Harry glanced up at the man.

"I'm offering you a choice here." Snape waved a hand at the books. "There are three books here, and you _are_ going to be reading from one this evening. If you don't choose one, I will select one for you."

Harry didn't care. It didn't make any difference to him which book he read. Every book he'd ever read was the same. Boring stories with words that were too hard about stupid characters that put him to sleep.

Snape reached across the table and pulled the library books closer. "What do we have here?" He picked up the first book, a thin, blue one and turned it over. "Ah, '_The Purple Picnic'_. That sounds thrilling."

Harry shot him a glare.

Snape ignored him, picking up the second book. "And a story about a very large cat and his friend, the clever mouse. That sounds equally exciting. Which enthralling tale should we indulge in first?"

"It was your idea." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. So what if the books were stupid? He'd gotten them because they were short, not because they were exciting.

"This one then." Snape put down the library books and reached for the Robin Hood one.

Harry groaned. "No, not that one. It's too big."

"Why does that matter?"

"I'll never finish it!"

"You won't have to finish it tonight."

"I don't care." Harry snatched the cat book back. "I want to read a smaller one."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Fine."

Harry opened the book and stared at the first page. Pictures coloured every page, but they weren't very interesting.

"Out loud." Snape sat back in his chair.

"What?" Harry looked up with a start. "Why?"

"Because I told you to. Read the story, please."

Reading out loud was something Harry had always disliked. In primary school, Harry tried sitting as far back as possible, preferably behind a larger kid in hopes the teacher wouldn't see him. For the most part, the plan worked. No one ever noticed Harry or asked him to read, and that was the way he preferred it.

Scowling, Harry looked back down at the page, already tempted to throw the book across the room. "'There... was once a fat cat... a fat cat...'"

"Named," Snape prodded.

"'...cat named Sam. He saw white bla-'"

Snape pointed to a word. "'He was white with black spots."

Agitated, Harry nodded. This was why he hated reading. He got things wrong all the time, and everyone had to correct him. He couldn't even read a dumb little kid's book without messing up.

He pulled his feet up into the chair. "'He had a... a very fluffy tail. He lo... lo...'"

"Loved."

"'...loved to eat... fish... from his pl...'"

"'from his _bowl_', Harry."

Harry dropped the book onto the table with huff. Slipping his hands under his glasses, he pressed his fingers into his eyes.

"Harry."

"Leave me alone."

"Keep going. You're doing fine."

"No, I'm not." Harry looked back up. "I hate reading."

Snape looked frustrated, not angry. He drummed his fingers on the table as he studied Harry with a critical eye. "What do you hate about it?"

"It's too hard! I can't do it."

"You can. You've already proved that much."

"But not very well, and it takes so _long_." Harry shoved the book across the table. "Why do we have to do this? It's just a stupid story about a cat. It doesn't have anything to do with school."

"Books aren't only for educational purposes. They can be quite enjoyable."

"Yeah." Harry rolled his eyes. "Right."

"Not this particular book, perhaps." Snape gestured to the discarded cat book. "But I happen to know of a few others that may suit you."

"You mean like Robin Hood?" Harry eyed the larger book.

Snape nodded. "Yes, among others. Have you ever read _King Arthur_ or _The Wizard of Oz_? What about _Peter Pan_?"

Harry ignored the stream of titles. He had heard of those before, but couldn't say he knew all that much about them. He thought they were movies. Harry avoided Snape's careful gaze, ducking his head and rubbing at his eyes again.

After a quiet pause, Snape asked, "Do you have a headache?"

Harry swallowed and nodded. He felt like his head was going to explode all over the kitchen.

"_Accio_ headache draught." Snape waved his wand.

A tiny bottle of clear, pinkish liquid flew from the open cellar door into the kitchen, and Snape caught it in his free hand. He pulled the cork out and held the bottle out to Harry. "Take this. It will help."

Harry took the bottle and put his nose to the opening, sniffing it. It didn't seem to smell like much of anything at all.

"Honestly, if I wanted to poison you, I would have done so already. Drink it quickly," Snape warned, "before it loses its potency."

Feeling the throbbing in his head grow stronger, Harry downed the liquid in one quick gulp. It left a sour taste in his mouth, and he grimaced.

Snape ignored this and picked up the cat book. He held it out. "You may continue."

Harry stared at the book, hoping it would disappear. Snape's easy mood was quickly vanishing, so Harry took the book and opened it back up. He scanned the page, trying to find where he left off.

Snape placed his finger at the beginning of a sentence.

Harry nodded. "'But his fa...favourite thing to do was to... sleep... um..."

"Beside," Snape murmured.

"Right. '...sleep beside the,' uh..." Harry glanced quickly at the picture. "'Beside the window, where... some... sometimes... he would see..."

After a little longer, Harry's mum came into the room. She, too, had a book in her hands. How had Harry gotten stuck in a house full of books and people that liked to read them? The only one of the Dursleys that ever read any books was Aunt Petunia, and she never cared that Harry didn't like to read.

"How's it going in here?" His mum put her book down on the table. "Is this homework?"

"We're reading." Snape glanced up.

Harry shook his head and shut his book. "No, we're not."

"He's struggling," Snape said.

"And I've got a headache." Harry leaned forward and rested his head on his arms. "Can we please stop now?"

Snape frowned, but Harry's mum put her hand on Harry's back and gave it a comforting rub.

"It's after seven, Severus, and he still needs to get cleaned up for bed and unwind. Why don't you two call it a night?"

Harry raised his head. Having a mum was just wonderful. Someone to take care of you and know when you had been reading for far too long.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Fine."

But when Harry jumped up from his chair, Snape raised a hand and stood up.

"Not so fast. You can 'unwind' in the sitting room with your book."

Harry frowned.

"Wait." His mum pointed to the stairs. "Take a break and go take your shower, Harry. Then you need to come back downstairs, okay?"

Harry grimaced, but agreed.

His mum turned back to Snape. "You two have been stuck in this house together all day. You need a break from each other. Come sit and relax for a while. You're getting too uptight."

Snape said something, softly, in response, but Harry didn't hear what it was. He was already bounding halfway up the stairs, all too eager to rid himself of those stupid library books.

He came back downstairs a little bit later, his pajamas sticking to him and water dripping from his hair. He'd taken as long as he could, trying to put off having to sit and read again, but a bath could only take so long before his mum and Snape started to wonder if he had drowned.

Harry's mum was curled up with her book, and Snape was in his usual spot in the other chair. He didn't look up when Harry came into the room. His head rested against his hand, his elbow propped up on the armrest, engrossed in the book he was holding, which Harry recognized as _Robin Hood_.

Cat book in hand, Harry climbed onto the sofa. The clock on the wall read twenty past seven. Harry hoped that didn't mean Snape would make him read until bed. He'd rather go to bed early.

"How is your book, Harry?" His mum looked up.

Harry glanced away from the fat cat peeping into a small hole in the wall. "Boring."

She leaned forward. "Do you want to read something else then? Severus has quite a few books upstairs."

He frowned. "They're too long. And they'll be boring, too."

"Why don't you try out Robin Hood? Do you know that story?"

Harry shook his head.

"I think you'd like it. See," she gestured to Snape, who was ignoring the conversation, "it's so good, Severus still reads it."

"Have you read it before?"

She nodded. "When I was about your age, I did. It was full of adventures, and I remember it was quite funny at times."

Harry looked at the old book in Snape's lap. It didn't look like a very funny book.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Just ask Severus. He's read it plenty of times."

This time Snape did look up. "If you like adventure and humour, you might enjoy this."

"It looks boring." Harry wrinkled his nose up.

"Ah, well, looks can be deceiving. Does this sound boring to you?" Snape began to read. "'And did you, Little John,' said Robin in a sad voice, 'call his lordship a fat priest?' 'Ay,' said Little John sorrowfully. 'And a man-eating bishop? 'Ay,' said Little John, more sorrowfully than before.'"

Harry laughed. "It doesn't say that."

"It most certainly does." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Come, see for yourself."

Harry looked over at his mum, who was sitting there with a smile. She nodded towards Snape, so Harry put down his book and stood beside the man's chair. Snape pointed to a passage towards the bottom of a page, and Harry leaned over the armrest to get a better look. Sure enough, there were the exact words Snape had just read.

"It does!" Harry's eyes widened.

A small smile crept onto Snape's face.

"Why'd they say that?" Harry straightened up.

"It was all in good fun, however, the Bishop didn't have a sense of humour," Snape explained, "but Robin and his men thought it quite funny."

Harry grinned. "I do, too. Do you think it's funny, Mum?"

She smiled at him over her book. "So long as you know better."

With a careful look, Harry turned back to Snape. "Is the whole book like that?"

"Much of it, yes."

"Do you... well... could you, I mean..." Harry bit down on his lip.

Snape cocked his head to one side. "Would you like me to read you this chapter?"

Harry sucked in a breath. "Would you?"

"Of course. Let's move somewhere more comfortable." The man moved over to the sofa. He tossed Harry's library book onto the coffee table and beckoned the boy to come closer.

Harry sat beside Snape. He wanted to see the pages of the book, just in case there were any good pictures.

"Let's start back at the beginning of this chapter, shall we?" Snape flipped back a few pages. "Ah, yes. Here we go. 'Robin Hood Aids a Sorrowful Knight'."

Snape started to read, his baritone voice articulate, yet soft, and Harry was soon engrossed in the story of Robin Hood and his merry men. As Robin trekked through the forest, looking for a guest, Harry imagined that Sherwood Forest looked a lot like the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

When they reached the part where Little John called the Bishop a "man-eating bishop," Harry laughed again.

By the time they neared the end of the chapter, Harry was even more engrossed than before, but his eyes began to tire. He'd been holding back a yawn for the last two pages because he hadn't wanted to remind anyone of his bedtime.

Snape, however, showed no signs of weariness. His voice was just as clear and strong as it had been when he started. "'But, as the Bishop rode away, he vowed within himself that he would sometime make Robin rue the day that he stopped him in Sherwood. But now we shall follow Sir Richard; so listen, and you shall hear what befell him, and how he paid his debts at Emmet Priory, and likewise in due season to Robin Hood."

With these words, Snape shut the book and looked at Harry. "So what did you think?"

"Robin Hood is way better than that stupid cat book." Harry smiled. "Will you read more?"

"Not tonight. You were supposed to be in bed fifteen minutes ago."

"But I want to know what happened to Sir Richard. How's he going to pay Robin Hood back?"

His mum got up from her chair. "You can read some more tomorrow, Harry. The book isn't going anywhere."

"Will you read the rest?" Harry asked Snape.

Snape studied him. "I will make a deal with you. If you like Robin Hood, if you want to read it-"

"I want you to read it," Harry interjected.

"Yes, yes, that's what I'm getting to. If you want me to read you this book, then I'm certainly not going to discourage that. However, you are going to do your part as well. You and I will read a bit of this book every evening, and for every page you read, I will read a few more. Does that sound agreeable?"

Harry tugged at his sleeve.

"The terms are non-negotiable." Snape's voice was firm. "Take it or leave it."

Harry didn't particularly like the part of the deal where he had to read, but he did want Snape to read him the story. He'd never finish it by himself, and Snape was a very good storyteller, he'd found.

Somewhat reluctant, he nodded.

"And now it's time for you to get to sleep." His mum held out her arms.

Harry hugged her.

She planted a quick kiss on the top of his head, then tousled his hair. "I'm very proud of you," she whispered into his ear.

Harry nodded and hugged her tighter. "G'night, Mum."

"Good night, sweetheart."

Harry started to leave the room, but paused in the doorway. He turned around to face Snape, who was still sitting on the sofa, book in hand. "Thanks for reading to me."

Snape hesitated before saying, "Sleep well, Harry."


End file.
